


Revealed

by ArraFrost



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Domestic Avengers, Identity Reveal, M/M, Memory Loss, Spider-man reveal, Superfamily
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 15:53:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArraFrost/pseuds/ArraFrost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Tony find out their son is Spider-man the hard way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The street was silent beneath him but Peter knew something was off about this area. Trouble was lurking and nothing could be more cliché than an empty back alley with a newly hatched superhero sitting around waiting for something to happen.

Peter fidgeted with his red and blue spandex suit, unsure if this would really work out well or not... So far, these past couple weeks, he'd been doing fine. Swinging from the buildings with his web shooters without falling, saving people from being mugged, and the few cats he'd found stuck in trees. There have been a few close calls but no major injuries that he couldn't conceal from his fathers. No one had found out his secret identity and he was starting to make a name for himself – although some of the news surrounding his name wasn't entirely positive... The biggest challenge he would have to face soon was actually sitting down and telling his fathers that he suddenly had superpowers and he'd been putting his life in danger for others. Yeah, that was going to be fun.

A tingling sensation crawled up his spine as Peter realized he was being watched. His shoulders stiffened when a maniacal laughter rang out behind him and as he turned, he was greeted by the sight of what appeared to be a goblin on a mechanical bat.

“Someone let you out of Gringotts?”

“Very funny, Spider-Man.”

“So you've heard of me.” Peter grinned behind his mask. Already he had creepy looking villains interested in his exploits.

“Oh, yes. I've heard a great deal about you. You've begun to set quite the name for yourself.”

“Yeah well, I figured I can shoot webs like a spider and I'm a man so why not combine the two and see what I got.”

The goblin appeared to be less amused this round. “Two days ago you intervened in a very important business investment for me.”

“Terribly sorry. If you'd like to make a complaint about your friendly neighbourhood spider services, please dial 1-800-”

“Joke all you want, it won't delay your demise.”

“Oh, are you on a tight schedule? Terrorize old ladies, pick up groceries, get a facial because I seriously think you might be in need of some organic skin treatment.”

The goblin growled lowly in his throat before reaching into his shoulder bag and pulled out a small jack-o'-lantern.

“A little early for trick or treat don't you think?”

“I think it's past your bedtime little spider.” And the jack-o'-lantern was tossed at Peter's feet.

Spider-Man looked at it with amusement. “Missed me.”

The goblin only grinned wickedly and Peter realized his mistake when the bomb went off and he was falling off the edge of the building.

“Shitshitshit!” A web flew out of his hand, attaching itself to the adjacent building and he hung there for a moment to temper the ringing in his ears and the blurred vision.

He didn't have too long to wait before the next pumpkin was coming toward him and Peter shot off the next web, barely getting out of the way in time.

Each pumpkin got closer in the goblin's pursuit of Spider-Man's path down numerous alleyways, out of the reach of the mass public. It was night so there weren't many citizens on the streets but Peter didn't want to risk someone being injured by the blast.

“Ugh!” A blast hit Peter directly in the back, causing him to falter in his web pattern. He barely caught himself on the side of a building but another pumpkin above his head blew him off and onto the ground. He felt the air leave his lungs as he hit the pavement followed by a sharp pain that turned his gasp into a scream.

His fingers, some free from the spandex that had torn away from the explosions, touched blood and a small sharp object protruding from his chest.

“I'm disappointed, Spider-Man. I was expecting more of a fight.”

The goblin held a bat-shaped throwing knife in each hand, much like the one Peter was now sporting as an unwanted accessory. Peter clenched his fists as he stared up at the goblin, preparing himself to endure more pain as he quickly ran through all of his escape routes.

“Gah!” The goblin yelled as he suddenly went flying off his bat-shaped flying contraption and into the building behind Spider-Man.

“You got it.” Iron Man spoke, as he hovered in the air, one hand still aimed at the goblin from his previous attack.

“I thought I told you to wait for me!” Captain America shouted as he ran out from the building across the street, mask being pulled on in the process.

“If I had waited any longer, Spider-Man would have a few more unconventional holes.”

Peter sighed, laying his head back on the pavement as a feeling of safety flushed over his body. It was going to be fine. His fathers were...

“Fuck...” Spider-Man muttered under his breath. His fathers were here. Right now. No. This couldn't happen. They couldn't find out like this. Not when Peter had a small blade piercing his lung.

The goblin crawled out of the wreckage only to have Iron Man's fist become fairly intimate with his face.

Peter cursed again when Captain America came to his aid, feeling his pulse, asking him if he was okay.

“Fine.” Peter coughed, attempting to stand up on his own, but the pain was almost too much for him to bare and he fell back... into the Cap's arms.

“Don't worry, we've got you.” He spoke confidently in the voice of the soldier and Peter had to get away before that changed.

“Thanks.” Spider-Man said curtly, freeing himself from the Captain's arms and stumbling to a distance where he couldn't be reached anymore. “You look like you've got this under control. I'll get out of your way.”

“Wait, you're injured! You can't-”

“Bye!” He squawked out, raising an arm and shooting a web to the furthest building it could reach. Peter was at least three blocks away before his strength gave out and he stumbled as he reached the top of a building, rolling over himself and probably causing further injury. It didn't hurt nearly as much as the other times he fell, but Peter could taste the blood on his tongue when he coughed.

Breathing harshly, he shed himself of his mask and took in the extent of the damage. He would need a new suit for sure... the spandex had barely survived the first explosion, let alone the ten that followed. Or the knife... the bat blade thing sticking out of him like a displaced joint.

“Uh this is not good...” Peter ran his hand through his hair, willing himself to sit upright and not pass out.

Distantly he heard sirens and he could only assume that the cops had come to apprehend the goblin... whoever that man was...

“Spider-Man!” Captain America's voice called out to him, and Peter flashed back to moments of his childhood when he would hear his Pop yell out in that voice to him as he fell from the monkey bars or off his bike.

“Fuck...” Peter cursed under his breath as he attempted to stand once more, to flee, to run away before his father behind him could recognize him. But he was done. His energy was drained and so was current blood supply.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine! Go away! I can take care of this myself.” The panic was rising in his voice as he kept his face turned away from the Captain.

“You need medical attention.” Steve was getting closer and this was Peter's last chance. Gathering any and all strength that he or his powers granted him, he pulled himself up and made a run for the other side of the building. He was close, close enough to make one last jump and maybe a few more web shots until he could find a dark alley to hide in.

But that dream shattered when Iron Man hovered in front of him, cutting off his path.

Peter felt his stomach flip and his blood ran cold as he stood face to face with his father. Tony's mask flew up instantly, the look on his face... Peter couldn't describe it. The shock, the confusion, the concern, he almost thought he say betrayal and disappointment in there but that could have been caused by his vision blurring and the fall backwards.

Tony moved in quickly, catching him by the arms and cautiously lowering him to the ground, weary of his injuries.

“Oh my god...” Peter could have cried from the tone of his Pop's voice when he recognized him.

“Peter...” Tony croaked out.

“Hey-” Peter coughed up another lung full of blood. “Dad... Pop...”

“Peter how did you- you're- no. You can't be. This can't be happening!” Tony's voice was frantic, hands roaming about his injuries, having shed them of the armor.

“Tony!” Steve grabbed his shoulders, attempting to calm him down. “Tell JARVIS to send us help, a helicopter, now!”

“Right... right... good.” Peter felt the trembling hands of his father leave him as Tony followed Steve's orders, his voice just as, if not more, shaky as his body.

“Peter, can you hear me?” Steve was close to him now, leaning over him with eyes filled with tears and concern.

“Yeah, Pop... I meant to tell you-.”

“No, don't go down that road son. We'll talk about Spider-Man later. Right now, you need to focus.”

Peter's eyes fluttered shut, “Okay Pop...”

“No! Peter open your eyes, look at me!” Steve's voice was strict and level but Peter could hear the tremble in it, hidden from anyone but his husband and son.

It took a lot of effort, but Peter's eyelids rose just enough to be considered open.

“I'm sorry....” Peter cried, allowing himself to let go, to stop fighting.

“Peter! Oh god- Don't apologize. None of this is your fault it's-” Tony's eyes flashed with rage as he realized the full extent of what had just happened a few minutes ago. “I'll fucking kill him.”

“Tony, no! Right now-” Steve glanced significantly at their son who was beginning to doze off again.

“Peter! Shit- come back!” Tony was instantly on his knee beside him, hand cradling his son's head.

“I'm sorry, Dad...”

“It's okay, Pete. We'll ground you later, right now you have to stay awake.”

“Yeah... Okay...” Peter whispered as his vision blacked out and the voices of his fathers faded into the distance.


	2. Chapter 2

“No, I don’t think you understand who  _you’re_  talking to. I am Tony Stark. I can have you fired with the snap of my fingers so you’re going to get off your ass and let me in that room!”

Steve sat on the bench seat of the waiting room, hands clasped over his knees as he leaned over and fixed his eyes on the floor. Tony was slapping his hand on the front desk, tormenting the nurse who refused to give into Tony’s demands. Finally someone who wasn’t intimidated by the great Tony Stark or-

“I am Iron Man! Did you hear that correctly? If I wanted to, I could blow a hole in any wall and gain access to any ward!”

“You’re going to blow a hole in the side of a hospital? Particular the operating room your son is currently in?” The nurse rose an unimpressed eyebrow, staring at Tony as if he were really that stupid to believe that kind of a risk was beneficial to anyone. Not only would the press love Iron Man blasting a hospital, the debris would be detrimental to a successful surgery for Peter.

Tony grumbled angrily, slamming his hands on the desk dismissively before deciding it would be more productive to pace the waiting room, and glare at anyone who happened to walk by him or share a glance.

Steve couldn’t move, he refused to try and think or speak to anyone because when he wasn’t focusing so intently on the tiles of the waiting room floor all he pictured was his son, bleeding and passed out in his arms. He couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness, the flashbacks of watching Bucky plummet from the train, Peggy’s voice in his ear before communications cut.

Tony, on the other hand, was active enough for the both of them. He’d mouthed off to every security guard, nurse, doctor and even a few patients and visitors who’d passed by since they’d been told to wait here after the copter had landed. Steve literally had to restrain Tony to keep him from attacking anyone. He’d held him tightly in his arms for nearly twenty minutes until Tony had calmed down enough to stop struggling. He didn’t relax though, stayed completely stiff, eyes glaring at him even when Steve released him. Steve honestly couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen Tony this angry, this scared.

Nothing Tony had in his arsenal could help Peter right now. No Iron Man intimidation or Tony Stark charm could lead to results any quicker… or any better.

“Mr. Rogers?”

A hushed voice from behind Steve startled him but it took a great deal of energy for him to force his eyes from their fixed position on the floor and to lift his head to turn around. The doctor, although he was clearly talking to Steve, focused his eyes on the pacing Stark who was ranting under his breath, fractured equations by what Steve could make out.

Steve nodded, not trusting his voice and it was clear neither himself nor the doctor wanted to alert Tony of this conversation just yet.

“Your son is in recovery.”

“How is he?” Steve’s voice was louder than he meant it to, but Tony was thankfully distracted by a visitor who made the mistake of cutting off Tony’s path and was getting an ear full of threats to both their body and their career.

“His condition is stable, however-”

“Can we see him?”

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to see him until he’s been moved to a room in the unit.”

“Right… okay…” Steve mumbled, breathing in the relief that their son was… “There was a ‘however’ in that sentence.”

“Peter suffered head trauma during the… attack.”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He remembered the… object in Peter’s chest and the potential of a collapsed lung he heard the paramedics saying, but his head… there was blood on Steve’s hands when he’d cradled his son’s head in his lap. They had found him on the ground… on his back and those explosives…

He nodded to the doctor, slowly, as he took in the different ways that monster could have inflicted damage upon his son’s head. The doctor continued to explain in long sentences, professional yet tactfully, how extensive Peter’s injuries were. Various things about how long it might take Peter to recover. What would happen if he woke up… things that Steve could only nod along to absent-mindedly.

“Thank you, doctor.” Steve’s mind snapped back to the present when his husband’s suddenly calm and collected, reasonable even, voice drifted into his ears.

The doctor nodded, gave Steve a concerned look, and turned around to walk back to where ever doctors went… Steve didn’t care, he just turned around and gazed at Tony’s face, not sure why or how Tony had managed to calm down enough to handle a situation that Steve had clearly lost all ground to stand on. It took Steve a moment of hoping reality would fall away from them before he locked his gaze with his husband.

“Is our son… in a coma?” Steve’s voice was shaky, as were his hands that Tony’s promptly took into his own when he sat down on the bench.

“Possibly.” Tony spoke, his voice far off in the distance. Whether either of them were distracted or Steve was suffering from some sort of hearing loss due to shock, he didn’t know. The only solution was to lean over and lay his head on Tony’s shoulder and squeeze his hands tightly.

“Tony?”

“Steve.”

“What… what do we do?” He couldn’t believe he was asking this. He’d saved the world, fought numerous enemies, ran countless strategies, everything Captain America had ever done meant nothing. Steve felt exactly like the small, weak kid from Brooklyn that he had been so long ago.

Tony exhaled deeply, as though he had run dozens of equations in his head, trying to figure out the precise method of dealing with this situation. “I don’t know.”

\- - - - - - - -

A hand on Steve’s shoulder, shaking him gently, woke him up from a sleep he hadn’t remembered consenting to. He rose, groggily from Tony’s shoulder to greet Natasha and Clint with a tired nod.

He glanced at Tony and it was clear he hadn’t slept at all. He could probably guess at how many times the coffee cup in his hands had been refilled by Clint.

“Banner?” Steve asked, trying to wake himself up with role call.

Natasha shook her head. “Too much risk in a hospital like this under the circumstances.”

Steve didn’t ask about Thor. He was in Asgard and now was not an appropriate time to call for him. All they could do was sit and wait, they didn’t all need to be stuck in a hospital waiting room.

“ _Coming up next, Spider-Man has taken up a new, green ally. They were seen yesterday evening throwing explosives at several buildings. Luckily there were no casualties as Iron Man and Captain America were swift to apprehend the criminals. Spider-Man, however, is believed to have escaped arrest once again-”_

“Turn it off.” Steve muttered.

“What?”

“Mute it, press the power button, disconnect the cable with an arrow. Just turn the television off.” Tony continued harshly, staring the assassins down until Clint gave Natasha a confused glance and a shrug before walking over and switching the television off. Luckily there weren’t many people in the room and none of those that were complained.

“Thank you.” Steve sighed, resting his hands in his head. He could barely keep himself together waiting on his son to be healthy, to be conscious. He could not deal with the Spider-Man issue. Not yet.

They sat in awkward silence, Natasha leaning against the wall across from the bench, Clint sitting on top of a table.

“Stark?” Natasha prodded as Tony gestured for his coffee cup to be filled once more. “No more coffee until you tell us what we’re doing here.”

She received a glare from both Steve and Tony, although Steve’s glare more accurately resembled a warning.

“Peter, I know.” Natasha spoke softly, gently, making them both aware that she had meant no harm in what she had just said. “But how did he get here? What happened?”

“Not now, Romanoff.” Tony muttered, his hands gripping the cup so hard now that it was starting to cave in on itself.

“It just happened.” The words fell from Steve’s lips before he could catch them. But really, that’s how he felt. It had just happened. Nothing made sense to Steve. He went from saving Spider-Man to watching his son bleed out and there was no continuity in that sequence for Steve.

“Steve, this is Peter. Things like this don’t just happen to Peter. He’s not one of us. He doesn’t put his life in danger. Yeah he’s stood up to a bully and got his ass kicked but nothing like this. Do we need to find someone? Someone out to hurt the Avengers?” Clint had moved closer, taking his position next to Natasha in his need to find out the truth.

“It was Spider-Man.” Tony growled, hate filling his voice.

“What?” Clint stared at him as though Tony had grown another head and Natasha narrowed her eyes with a deadly expression.

“Spider-Man did this to Peter?”

“Technically…” Steve muttered under his breath.

“The Green Goblin, as he calls himself… was targeting Spider-Man.”

“Tony, that doesn’t make sense. Peter doesn’t know Spider-Man. Spider-Man’s been around for what? Three weeks? If that? We’ve barely made contact with him.”

Tony shut Clint up with a harsh look before his eyes connected with Natasha’s. Something must have transferred between them or Natasha was being her usual incredibly talented self at deciphering secrets because her eyes widened in disbelief.

“No. Tony, no. He can’t be.”

“Can’t be what?” Clint blinked and glanced between his three teammates, aware of how lost he’d become in two seconds.

“He is.”

“How did he keep it a secret for this long?”

“Guys come on, you’re not suggesting that Peter is-” Clint, starting to catch on, gave them each a skeptical look but was disappointed when all he received were serious expressions. “Fuck.”

“I can’t believe he kept this a secret. How did this-”

“We don’t know how he got his powers. We don’t know why he didn’t tell us. We don’t know anything except the Green Goblin has a grudge with our son and I’m-” Tony cut himself off, gritting his teeth when one of Steve’s hands gripped his thigh.

“He’s dead.” Natasha made to walk out of the building, purpose clearly written in her eyes but Clint grabbed her wrist.

“He’s in prison. He’s not going anywhere. We’ll deal with him after.” Clint held Natasha’s gaze even though he felt like he was going to spontaneously burst into flames from the sheer intensity in her eyes. They all wanted to do it, it was clear by the atmosphere in the room that the entire team wanted to put the Green Goblin so far under the ground he’d be reach the earth’s core. But that’s not what they needed right now.

“More coffee, Tony?” Natasha asked, her voice calm enough to be considered trustworthy. The only one that could read her well enough to decide that she wasn’t going to infiltrate a high security prison to assassinate the new arrival released her hand. An unspoken understanding of which topics would be off limit for the rest of this hospital visit filled the air between the four.

Tony merely waved his empty cup. “Cap?” Natasha grabbed Tony’s cup and turned her gaze on the Captain. “Steve, would you like coffee?” She prodded when he didn’t respond.

“Yeah…” Steve finally looked up from the floor. His eyes tired, his body numb. “I think I’ll need it.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Steve. Steve, wake up.” The slumbering Captain heard the voice before he felt the nudging touch on his shoulder. Slowly his eyes opened to the stark view of the hospital and the aroma of anti-bacterial soap. Gazing up, he met his husband’s eyes finding the same sadness within himself reflected back.

Tony caressed his face with a warm palm that Steve snuggled into, nothing was warm anymore. It was cold and full of anxiety and worry… that empty feeling he’d experienced after Bucky fell from the train along with the helplessness and displacement after his seventy year long sleep.

“What time is it?” Steve mumbled, closing his eyes once more as he settled against his husband’s thigh, wanting to go back to sleep and put off facing reality for as long as possible.

“Time to go home.”

Steve’s eyes shot open, more awake in that moment than he thought possible. Hope and promises flooded his mind. “Peter?”

Tony shook his head, a solemn apology in his eyes for getting Steve’s hopes up, although it was completely accidental. “We haven’t moved in two days, Steve. We need showers and our own bed for the night.”

The argument was already forming in Steve’s eyes for Tony to see but the genius wouldn’t have it. He placed his palm gently on his husband’s lips before words could form on them and kept their eyes connected. “Clint and Tasha will be here while we’re gone. Anything happens, we’ll be here in minutes. Trust me. We need to get some real sleep.”

When Tony Stark tells you that you need to sleep… then you  _desperately_ need to sleep. With a sigh that was only blocked by Tony’s palm, Steve nodded his head and Tony retracted his hand, letting it caress Steve’s shoulder as he sat up on the bench.

Standing up, that’s when they both felt it. For two days they’d barely moved from that bench and although it had cushions, it was not the most comfortable thing to mold your body into. Sure Tony had gotten up for his occasional pacing about the lobby and their positions on the bench changed but standing up and stretching… their muscles were far from pleased with them.

Tony cracked his back, his neck, his shoulders, anything that felt displaced which was basically every part of his body. Steve stretched, arms to the air before working his muscles out in a style that clearly expressed his military training.

“We’ll let you know if anything changes.” Clint gave a little salute as he watched the two exhausted fathers leave. Tasha nodded, her eyes serious and they knew if anything went wrong, Natasha would literally drag the doctors from doing anything else to focus on Peter.

Tony waved a silent goodbye, his other hand on the small of Steve’s back to lead him out. Neither wanted to be away, but this was for the best.

\- - - - - - - - -

“Tony…” Steve’s low voice called from the bathroom where he was brushing his teeth. Tony was currently sitting at the end of the bed, prying his socks off his feet and trying not to breathe in the fumes.

“Yeah.” He knew his voice wasn’t much louder or energetic at the moment either, sleep creeping at the corner of his eyes and willing him to collapse on the soft bed behind him.

Steve steadied himself against the sink, staring himself down in the mirror to get the words out. “Our son is Spider-man.”

That was currently not something the two had wanted to discuss yet, especially in the public sphere of a hospital waiting room. The son they’d raised to be a normal kid, albeit he was a little genius and he would always be extraordinary in their eyes… but now he was a hero. The spider they all thought was a spaz as he swung about carelessly. But they respected him, knew how young he must have been, and admired the good and selfless work he was doing… and now it was different. That spaz was their son.

Tony didn’t know how to respond. The news itself was something they would have sat Peter down for, yelled at him for being so stupid to not tell them how everything happened, they could have helped him, trained him, made him prepared for the worst because the worst had already happened. They couldn’t lecture their son about being irrational and hasty and following their heroic footsteps.

“Tony?” Steve was in the doorway now, eyes soft and gazing at his husband with questions that no one could answer. Tony looked up from his feet but couldn’t say anything, didn’t know how to say anything. “Why didn’t we see it?”

“Steve…”

He cut him off, continuing as he started to pace the room. “He was going out every night, probably during the day. And Spider-man isn’t subtle. I’ve seen him thrown off a bridge before. Why didn’t we notice anything? We should have seen the signs.”

“Don’t Steve. We couldn’t have known-”

“I sat him down and told him about how I got beat up in school, told him how to stand up to bullies, talked him through it all because I thought that’s what the bruises meant. He’d always gotten picked on before but this… we should have known it wasn’t just-”

“But we didn’t.” Tony stood up, eyes fixed and tone firm. “He wouldn’t have told us. For whatever reason… he didn’t. Any other parent would have thought the same thing, bruises from bullies, late nights because he’s growing up and being a regular teenager. No one would assume that their child magically gained superpowers, not even parents who are superheroes.”

Steve stopped pacing and held Tony’s gaze, trying to make his breathing level. They were silent for the longest moment, only looking at each other, the same questions and no answers racing through their minds. “How?”

“I don’t know…”

“He hasn’t been in any accidents, he hasn’t been messing around with unknown elements or questionable experiments in your lab…”

Tony sighed as Steve rattled off more events that caused unexpected superpowers, he was going to work himself sick if he kept it up. Gingerly, Tony walked up to him, framing Steve’s face with his palms. Blue eyes looked up, that piercing gaze that was now fractured and distraught. Tony couldn’t imagine his eyes looking much better at this point.

Steve stopped talking, exhaling as he leaned forward, placing his forehead against Tony’s. “Tell me he’s going to be okay.”

A thumb caressed Steve’s lip, comforting and gentle. “Peter is going to get better. He will.” Pulling back, Tony gave himself enough room to touch his lips softly to Steve’s forehead, each of his eyes that had closed to hinder the water in his tear ducts, his nose which crinkled against the touch, and finally his own lips.

It was slow, careful movements of lips. Hands wandered over necks and shoulders or arms and back, tender and taking their time to absorb every caress. Sighs were lost in the intimacy, tears ignored in favor of warm hands and hot tongues. A hand on the hip that pulled them closer, adding friction to the equation and giving them the signal to move faster. The speed of their mouths, the hands that pulled unwanted clothes from shoulders and waists, thighs that found a rhythm between them to bring a subtle change to the breath lost in their kiss.

When there was no more air between them, Tony pulled away and gasped in the pocket of warmth under Steve’s chin. They clung to each other, hands buried in the clothes that hadn’t been successfully removed, keeping the other from moving away, from taking the warmth with them if they left.

\- - - - - - - - -

“Coffee?” Steve perked his head up when Tony entered the kitchen, eyes desperate and searching. When they landed on Steve’s frame, they calmed immediately but they were still spooked. Steve understood, smiling softly but clearly he was there and he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I made breakfast,” he explained, hoping to settle his husband’s nerves.

Tony nodded, raking his hand through his disheveled hair and sidling up to the counter, claiming one of the barstools. Steve shoveled eggs, bacon, toast and sausage onto the plate he’d already set for Tony and filled a large, portable mug with coffee. He was going to need a refill before they set out to the hospital, but Steve figured only one cup needed to be dirtied.

Neither had slept peacefully that night, even though they never left the safety of each others arms. It was odd to be in the house, knowing Peter wasn’t. It was quite this morning, normally Tony would wake up to the sounds of Peter and Steve talking in the kitchen, laughing about random mundane tasks that Tony wasn’t able relate to. The chipper noises of the morning people he let stay in his home because without them he was lost.

Both men jumped when there was a knock on the door. It was quite enough that Jarvis didn’t need to announce a guest. They stared at each other because neither wanted to move to answer that door, with no idea who would be on the other side at seven in the morning.

“Jarvis?”

“ _I don’t see anyone, sir. Checking the perimeter_.”

“Don’t see anyone?” Tony muttered to himself, grumbling as he stood up from the stool and made his way to the front door. He opened it cautiously but Jarvis was right, there was no one there. Poking his head out, he glanced around. No movement, no signs of life. But no one played practical jokes on Tony Stark’s door.

“No one Jarvis?” He asked as he closed the door and the A.I. denied any presence found. As he made his way back to the kitchen a loud thud from upstairs halted his movements and set his mind into a hopeful world where they had only imagined the accident and Peter was going to come down those stairs. But that was ridiculous and it was probably some idiot trying to break in, on today of all days, which was a bad call on their part.

Captain had joined him in the hallway at the sound, concern filling his eyes but he was ready to take out anyone who tried to mess with them today.

“Hey where’s Peter?” The familiar red and black suited figure greeted them at the top of the staircase, confused and not at all scared after having broken into the home of two superheroes.

“Wilson what are you doing in my house?” Tony growled, having no patience to deal with the likes of Deadpool.

“I came by to sneak Peter off to school.”

“Why? Since when are you close with our son?” Steve’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Since uh… we ran into each other one time and talked… shop? I was doing heroic things and he was in danger from a mugger so I stopped it and… we’ve been good friends. He tags along every now and then but don’t worry! I protect him!”

“You know Peter’s Spider-man.” Tony asked even though it clearly wasn’t a question. Wade may have been cunning and clever for a lunatic but that didn’t mean he was good at lying on the spot.

“Uh… do you?”

Tony nodded solemnly.

“Great! That means I won’t hear him go on and on about it now. He’s been chewing my ear off trying to find the right way to tell you. So how’d he do it? Come home with his suit conveniently hanging out of the bag for you to see? Forgot to zip up his hoody when his costume was underneath? Left a message in spiderwebs in the living room?”

“He’s in the hospital.” Steve spoke shortly, tired of hearing Wade’s voice and all the ways he would have much preferred to discover Peter’s new heroic identity.

That stopped Deadpool short, even through the mask they could tell his smirk had faded into a frown. “What?”

“Two nights ago he was fighting a villain and… he’s been in the hospital since.”

“Fractured bones? Concussion?” Well that was unnerving, Wade Wilson was actually concerned about someone. Maybe that did mean they knew each other more than Wade being a hindrance or a pest to Spider-man.

“A coma.”

Wade’s posture stiffened, fists clenching as he processed the information. “Who was it?”

“Claimed to be the Green Goblin.”

“Do we know that name?” Deadpool asked, seemingly no one in the room. Tony and Steve shared a glance as the merc fell silent, spitting out the occasional  _‘right’_  and _‘weren’t we supposed to-’_ finally ending on “Damnit. He’s in jail now isn’t he?”

That question was at least aimed at one of Peter’s fathers to which Tony nodded. “For life.”

“Too bad he isn’t going to have much longer to live.” Wade spoke, voice playful with deadly undertones as he strutted back down the hallway.

“Wilson.” Steve called, stopping the mercenary from what any idiot could clearly see the worst well intentioned idea. “Don’t. Come with us to the hospital if you’re such good friends.”

“You think my sexy lips are going to lull the princess from his deep sleep?”

“Ugh…” The revulsion at the notion of Wade’s mouth being anywhere near his son’s was enough to make him wish he was wearing the Iron Man suit to shoot Wade through the chest, leaving him to recover. But seeing someone else go down right now… even if he knew Wilson was going to get right back up… wasn’t appealing.

“What makes you think you can stop me?”

“We stopped Black Widow.”

Wade turned on his heal, walking back towards the two fathers with a confident strut. “Right. This hospital then? Does it allow weapons or should I leave them in the car?”


	4. Chapter 4

“What is he doing here?” Natasha's voice was two levels away from a growl, venom filling her eyes when she caught sight of Deadpool strolling into the hospital waiting room behind Tony and Steve.

Clint stepped forward, caution in his voice. “Wade... what  _are_  you doing here?” He was genuinely confused. He knew Wade Wilson from the various times they hung out and played video games while getting drunk. Or those times they went to strip joints together after they each had particularly bad missions and needed to meet someone who wouldn't judge or talk their ear off. They had an interesting friendship to say the least, but Clint usually kept it quiet because the rest of the Avengers, S.H.I.E.L.D. and every other superhero on the planet thought Deadpool was bad news... which he was.

“Barton! Good to see you man. Not really under the circumstances what with Spidey...” Wade let his sentence trail off, which astonished all four Avengers present. It wasn't like Wade to stop himself before making an incredibly inappropriate joke at someone's expense.

Natasha gave Clint a look that said they were going to be talking later to which Clint groaned. There were times when his bromance with Black Widow felt like a marriage instead and it was those times when he wished he and Natasha weren't such close friends because it meant he was getting his ass kicked, again.

“Wait...” Natasha seemed to clue into what Wade had just said and her voice was hushed. “How do you know about Peter?”

Wade frowned under his mask, thinking about what she could be referring to and having a nice conversation with his thought boxes before it dawned on him. “Oh I met him like that. Out on the streets. At night. Doing our hero thing.”

“You're not a hero, Wilson.” The assassin glared, turning on her heel to march back to her previous seat on the bench. Clint sighed and glanced between them, nodding for Wade to follow them back to the benches.

It hadn't gone unnoticed, at least for the two assassins, that Steve and Tony had abandoned that confrontation and were already by the front desk asking the nurse about Peter's condition. Natasha and Clint could have told them, as they'd been there all night and made sure to keep up to date on Peter's information. Nothing had changed. He was still laying there in a bed where they couldn't see him. It was painful knowing the boy they'd all played a part in raising, even though Steve and Tony clearly had the bigger roles, was in the same building yet untouchable.

“Do we get to see him? Don't know how I'll feel if I see his face all unprettified but-”

“Wilson. Shut up.” Natasha' voice cut through the air, her eyes not even flickering over to the mercenary for a second.

Wade made a face below his mask, his eyebrows raising and lower lip pulling back. Clint could tell his face was an exaggeration on how tense Natasha was, but she needed to let off some steam and here was Wade Wilson to fulfill that role. Normally Natasha could at least tolerate the mercenary when he was around, brushing off his comments, threatening him in an almost playful and condescending manner. But right now she was pissed. She'd been denied the chance to massacre Peter's attacker and her hostility was being taken out on the person who most deserved it. Someone who wasn't part of their family that definitely had more red in his ledger than her.

They sat in silence for a while, Wade whistling occasionally until Natasha shot him a look that silenced him instantly. He then took to rolling a bullet between his fingers with expert skill.

It wasn't until they heard the footsteps coming toward them finally that they looked up. Clint moved over and took a seat on the adjacent bench next to Natasha, letting the husbands sit on the bench with Wade.

“So... you know Peter well?” Steve opened, his voice awkward. Not something he wanted to be talking about right now, but they were here and Wade was here – which was an odd concept for all of them – so they might as well get it out of the way.

“Yeah! We're good pals the two of us. Out all the time when he's fighting crime and I help! Gave me his autograph! It was awesome!”

“No... not  _Spider-man_.” Steve whispered his son's superhero identity for fear of someone overhearing. “Peter. Just Peter.”

Deadpool was stunned for a moment, from the creases in his mask one could almost say he looked pensive. “Peter... right... yeah we chill.”

And suddenly Wade Wilson sounded awkward and that wasn't a comforting fact for any of them.

“What do you mean?” Tony's voice was edging onto a threat with the amount of suspicion he was feeling.

“Uh... it's just that...” Wade paused, thinking of the right way to put it or stalling for an excuse that they all might believe. “Mostly it's just the other one really, yeah... not much Peter at all actually.”

Tony eyed him, judging his body language even though that was a difficult task because he wasn't even sure Deadpool knew what his own body language was... it was like looking at a bowl of jell-o and trying to figure out what emotion it was portraying.

“Okay.” He muttered cautiously, the word coming out slowly as though giving Wade a chance to correct himself if he wanted to come clean about a lie he might be telling. Then again, Wilson was usually always lying. There was never a way to know if he was telling the truth and some days... he simply told you the truth outright and bluntly but that was usually if he was planning on selling someone out or using them to put them in harms way later.

“You never told me you hung out with him.” Clint spoke up, furrowing his eyebrows. This would have been something Wade would have brought up on one of their excursions or poker night at the very least. He often spoke of meeting his idols and if he'd gotten an autograph from Spider-man than he definitely should have heard Deadpool bragging about it for an entire night.

“Petey likes to keep it a secret.” Wade responded calmly, like it had been the only plausible answer and the marksman should have known it without asking.

“Not surprising.” Was Natasha's cold remark before she rounded on the husbands with a softer voice. “Why did you bring him here?”

Steve and Tony exchanged a glance and Tony explained. “It was better than leaving him to his own devices and finding the Goblin.”

That caught Natasha attention and her whole body stiffened at the mention of the Green Goblin, the person she desperately wanted to put a bullet through.

“He showed up at the house looking for Peter. We had to tell him what happened.” Steve added with a shrug.

“How did you not know?” Barton asked, actually astonished that Wade wouldn't know what half the world knew about Spider-man being taken out by the Goblin, even if many ignorant people thought the Goblin had been his partner.

“Didn't have time for news. I was off on a mission and my apartment got trashed. Someone stole all my hot pockets so I had to track them down, then my phone got crushed when I was defending that taco stand so the only logical course of action was to sneak into Stark Towers and ask Peter if he'd buy me a new one because I hide all my money inside my hot pocket boxes that got swiped...”

The four Avengers stared at Wade with deadpan expressions, not sure exactly how they felt but obviously not as impressed as the mercenary would have liked them to be.

“Right...” Clint mumbled, shaking his head at his occasional friend's antics, unsure of how much truth there was to that story although by Deadpool's standards... it was probably one hundred percent accurate.

The silence feel over the group again, Deadpool resuming his tricks with the bullet that was making those that were walking by a little uncomfortable. In fact, most of Deadpool's appearance was probably making everyone uncomfortable. He wasn't clad full of guns and swords because Tony had made him leave them in his car. It was difficult enough convincing them to let the costumed moron into the hospital, the weapons would have made the entire process impossible and Wade would have thrown a fit no doubt. But that didn't make Wade Wilson stand out any less, or manage to creep people out simply from the aura he emitted. Plus the stench of corpses, gunpowder and Mexican food was unappealing to anyone, even Captain America and Iron Man.

“Mr. Rogers. Mr. Stark.”

They looked up in time with each other, taking in the sight of the doctor who had been treating Peter standing before them in his spotless white coat and clipboard at the ready. His expression was serious and unreadable as usual and none of them had bothered to learn his name even now. That would make something about this hospital situation permanent.

“Yes, doctor?” Steve answered, resisting the urge to stand up and move into the doctor's personal space, demanding what the changes were, how Peter's condition was, exactly when he would wake up.

“You son has woken up.”

Relief rushed over the Avengers in an instant, most of them gasping or breathing out a shaky breath. Wade gave a little 'whoop' that was promptly ignored. Steve and Tony fell back into their seat before they were clambering up toward the doctor.

“Can we see him?” The words nearly ran together they came out his mouth so fast but that didn't matter, anyone would know what he was asking just from looking at his face.

The doctor frowned. “I'm afraid not. He's still recovering and he needs his rest. He's barely cognizant at the moment, drifting in and out of consciousness but he has woken up from his coma. There is no immediate threat of him slipping back into it.”

“But... he's our son.” Steve was flabbergasted at the idea of not being able to see his son after he'd woken up from a coma... a coma that had lasted days after the traumatic incident of seeing him bleed out on the top of a roof. You can't simply deny a parent of seeing their child well after that, could you?

“I'm very sorry. We will inform you when an appropri-ahh!” The words were torn out of him in the form of a surprised and pained scream when Wade unexpectedly shoved him against the wall behind him, scaring the hell out of the secretary who had been working behind the desk.

Wade's forearm pressed harder against the doctor's throat as he spoke, his voice low and threatening. “Now... you're going to let us see Peter. That's not a question or a request. That's me telling you how this is going to work. They are the parents of that boy and you have absolutely no right to tell them they can't see their son.”

It had all happened so quickly that it took the Avengers a moment to respond, but after hearing what Wade was saying, they all seemed to hesitate. He was actually defending them and fighting for their right to see Peter, even if he was going about it the incredibly wrong way. Wade was being selfless to some degree and that thought in itself was scary.

The doctor wheezed in pain from the inability to bring air to his lungs and Captain America acted fast, pulling the mercenary off the doctor with little effort and Clint was right there to catch the doctor as he slumped to the ground.

“Sorry Doc, but the crazy near-murderous mercenary is right. We need to see Peter and you're not going to stop us.”

Those words coming out of Natasha's mouth were astonishing to everyone, including Wade because Black Widow had never called him right, ever... and now she was complimenting his murderous tendencies as well; in Wade's mind at least.

“What room is he in?” She asked, kneeling down and taking the doctor's chin in her hand as he struggled to regain his breath. It was barely a whisper as he blurted it out but Natasha nodded and motioned for the others to follow her as she led the way, ready to dispose of anyone who tried to stop them getting to their family.

And thankfully, no one did. They didn't call security either because really... who called hospital security to take care of a good number of the Avengers and a psychotic masked mercenary? Nobody that's who.

Natasha stopped in front of a door and took a deep breath, stepping back as her eyes connected with Tony's before moving onto Steve's. They stared at the door, fearing it was going to swallow them whole or open to the nightmares that had kept them up all last night but it was an ordinary door and one of them had to go in. One of them had to make the first move because Peter was on the other side of that door and he needed his fathers right now.

Taking a breath, Tony stepped forward, hand on the door knob as he gave it a determined turn and pushed the door open. Tony and Steve were the first into the room, Natasha and Clint followed and Wade hovered in the background like an annoying seagull tagging along for the chance at stealing your food.

The room was bright even for the lights being off because the light from the window was bouncing off the incredibly white walls and curtains. It was a private room, of course, because Stark money didn't pay for anything less than that. And on the entirely too clean bed, underneath the scratchy blankets that they'd all endured at some point in their line of work, was Peter Parker. The fragile boy that proved to be an agile and promising superhero.

His face was bruised and bandaged, as was the majority of his body that could be seen. Both of his arms were covered in dark purple bruises or small wrappings to cover deep scratches or burns from the blasts of the bombs that Goblin had thrown at him. They didn't imagine what the rest of him looked like under those white sheets because they remembered the weapon that had been sticking into him, thinking at the time it had been his worst injury only to find out that everything else was probably just as bad.

Tony moved without thinking, needing to be as close to his son as possible and he was there beside his bed, staring down at his sleeping face. Eyes watering at how broken his son was. They had never wanted to see him like this, ever. That's why they'd kept security tight, that's why they made sure Peter was never involved in their missions or in the line of fire. Leave it to Peter to somehow gain superpowers and prove to them that he was going to follow in their footsteps whether they liked it or not.

Steve's hand slipped easily into Tony's hand, squeezing it hard as they stared down quietly at their boy. Natasha and Clint hung back, eyes locked on the young boy as well but giving the fathers the space they needed. Deadpool found himself leaning against the wall, playing absent-mindedly with the cord of the television that he thought was incredibly useless for a person that was in a coma... even though Peter wasn't in it anymore.

The silence and tension hung heavier in the air than the smell of anti-septics. No one had the courage to move forward anymore than they had, despite how desperately Tony wanted to hold his son's hand and assure himself that Peter was fine, that he was going to recover and go right back to being his usual self so he could lecture him on never, ever doing something stupid like becoming a superhero when he was only fifteen years old.

His plans of exacting horrible, verbal punishment on his son was interrupted, however, when there was movement from the bed. The slumbering teen shifted in his sleep and mumbled something incoherent making all of them lean closer but not actually moving forward.

Slowly, his bright brown eyes opened and the exhaustion was clear in them as they took in his surroundings. Tony and Steve being the closest, and Clint because he saw everything, were the first to notice how startled those eyes were as they landed on each and every one of them.

It took Peter a moment before he groaned and attempted to sit up. Tony moved forward to help him, his voice completely gone from the shock of seeing his son awake and moving and healthy, but Peter flinched and fell back against the bed. His breathing was harsh and his eyes were wide as he examined all the figures in the room once again, lingering on Wade with a particular terror in them, before they returned to the men closest to him.

“Who are you people?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it's taken me two long months to update this fic. I'm terribly at updating but hopefully it goes more smoothly from this point. We'll see. Thanks so much for reading <33

“This... is where you live?” Peter may have felt small and insignificant in the hospital room, surrounded by faces he didn't recognize, but it was nothing compared to how this large, extravagant building loomed over him and half the structures around it.

Steve and Tony, his fathers, weren't fazed by the height or mass of the building. It was their home, of course they were used to it.

“I know it just looks like some big, ugly building in New York, but it's our home.” Steve smiled down at him but Peter didn't miss the incredulous look Tony gave him. Somehow it seemed as though Tony was both offended and impressed with that comment. It was going to take some getting used to... the behavior of this family. They weren't normal. Not like Peter had any reference to normal at the moment.

“Don't let anything he says taint the quality of your home.” Tony grinned down at him while maintaining a persistent glare at his husband, which was a rather impressive skill.

“Okay...” Peter spoke shyly. He may have been intrigued by these people on the inside, but voicing it was a different matter. He was out of place, and as such he didn't want to speak out of place.

On the way up the elevator to the penthouse Tony and Steve explained the history of Stark Towers. How the people Peter called his aunt and uncles lived there for quite some time before it was only Steve and Tony left living there. How they adopted Peter and how he grew up, had his own room, his own lab, basically free reigns of the building other than the restricted Stark Industries parts. It all seemed rather exciting, to have grown up with two caring fathers who let him expand and learn on his own while still being there to help him.

“ _Welcome home, Master Peter.”_

The elevator doors opened and an echoing British voice filled his ears but there was no one in sight. No mouth from which the voice could have came from. Peter jumped, eyes darting around the elevator and into the hallway, peering ever so cautiously around the corner. “What was that? Who was that?”

“You know that was Steve's first reaction to JARVIS.” Tony seemed to be unable to stop the small snickering that Steve attempted to stop by jabbing his elbow into the other man's ribs.

“That's JARVIS. He runs the house.”

“Jarvis? A voice that  _runs_ a house?”

“Artificial intelligence. Created by me.” Tony grinned. “Trust me, you and he are good friends. Always working to go behind my back.”

“ _Sir, if I may add. My protocols were overridden.”_

“The first time. But what about those twenty thousand other times.”

“ _I have a record of the security breaches by Master Peter, sir, and they do not equal-”_

“I'm exaggerating JARVIS. Mute.”

“You... but he's... not like a robot at all.” Peter stared uneasily between the two people he was meant to call father as they stepped out of the elevator. It didn't make sense, how could a robot sound so human?

“Yeah I might have given him too much attitude.” Tony shrugged, sounding as though he could fix it and give the A.I. less attitude but chose not to.

Steve laughed as Tony led the way down the hallway, Peter following with measured steps. “He needs someone to argue with him, keep him on his toes or he gets too bored.”

“Someone to keep him from doing something stupid?” Peter inquired carefully.

“No, he does that anyway.” Steve smiled but Peter could feel the irritation emanating off Tony and he was suddenly aware of what he just said. How offended he must be at being called stupid when he had invented artificial intelligence that spoke like a human and had the ability to control a house – which in this case was a tower.

“Um... I'm sorry I didn't mean-”

“It's okay.” A solid hand on his shoulder reassured him. “Jokes at my expense are a common occurrence. Feel free to make more, the banter might help you... help your memory.”

Peter gazed up at his eyes, no less tense than he started but for different reasons. They hadn't spoken much about this lack of memory. Not without a doctor present filling them in with medical jargon. Post-traumatic amnesia. He had been in a coma for several days, meaning the amnesia could last days or weeks. What's worse... the recovery of his memory could take months but they were hopeful that he would eventually recovery completely. The entire time, Steve and Tony had been anxious – they asked a lot of questions and he could tell that they were keeping their anger and tones level just for him.

Peter, for being the one without any memory of who he was, who these people were, where he was, anything at all to ground him, was oddly calm about the whole ordeal. He went with it in stride. Taking in the bits of information that he needed at the given time. He wasn't sure how to handle it and he could see the stress weighing down on the two men from the idea of Peter not knowing who he was. Having to hold back information and adjust the way you talked to your son because he no longer knew you couldn't have been easy. So why make it harder on them?

A tour without the voice of the A.I., having been muted, followed once the tension in the air filtered out. The wide kitchen, where Tony was not allowed to operate kitchen appliances – striking Peter as strange if he was an inventor but he didn't argue with Steve; the living room with several comfortable looking couches, a pillow pit and more than one television; the gaming room with original arcade games; bathrooms, the stairs to Tony's lab, Peter's lab, guest rooms, Steve and Tony's room, more rooms that Peter couldn't remember the function or use of, and finally Peter's room.

The walk was starting to put pressure on Peter, his injuries taking their toll on his energy level. After a while the movements brought pain to his chest, his most extensive injury apart from the head trauma. Which wasn't that bad other than the memory loss to be honest. He had a persistent headache but that was to be expected. Peter, of course, wouldn't let the two men know that he was starting to feel the pain, not when they were trying so hard to familiarize him with the house he was supposed to know like the back of his hand. Instead he stared into the darkness of the bedroom where he spent the majority of his time according to the older men.

“So... that's the house.” Tony announced, gesturing out at the hallways and to the surrounding rooms Peter assumed.

Peter nodded, eyes shifting awkwardly over the carpet and the walls, back to the room and occasionally the faces of the men, but not often.

“If you'd like... if you're hungry. I can make you something to eat.” Steve offered.

“Or... we could watch a movie?” Tony suggested.

But Peter could hear the hesitation in their voices. “If... if it's all right I'm actually kind of tired. Would I be able to get some sleep?”

“It's only eight... but, of course, you're probably tired.” Tony stammered over his words. “A movie another night.”

“Yeah.” Peter nodded, eyes flickering to his face before settling on the door again.

“Get some rest.” Steve spoke softly, like the lull of a bedtime story to put a child at ease. Strangely enough it worked, if only until Peter watched the two men disappear down the hallway before he stepped into the bedroom. Taking that opportunity to place a hand over his pained chest and lean against the wall to level out his breathing. It hurt to take in long gasps of air, the stretch wasn't good on the hole in his lung he assumed, not that he could possibly know anything about physical health even if he had been a pre-med student before the coma.

Moving slower than before, he groped about the wall beside the door frame until his fingers flipped the light switch. Even with the light on, illuminating the interior... he found nothing remotely familiar about it, just like the rest of the rooms in the house. To Peter they were four walls with furniture and other material objects filling them. Nothing sentimental. No memories of staying up for late nights of Halo with Tony. No mornings in the kitchen helping Steve prepare breakfast. All the brief stories they told him in hopes that something would spark... nothing.

Lost and overwhelmed, Peter let himself fall back on the unfamiliar sheets of the bed with a heavy sigh. The pillow a perfect mold for his head he never remembered laying on. He closed his eyes against the posters and pictures on the walls surrounding him. Bands he'd never heard of, people he couldn't remember meeting, places he didn't recall visiting.

“I want to remember...”

“Remember what?”

Peter recoiled from the voice against his ear, grabbing his chest that stung from the sudden jolt. He scrambled to the far side of the bed, back flat on the wall as he was faced with someone slightly familiar... which would have been comforting if the individual wasn't wearing a questionable red and black mask... even if it technically was the mask he was recognizing and not the person beneath it.

Then it clicked.

He didn't remember him from before. This was one of the many people crowding the hospital room when he first woke up. Everyone else had moved closer to him, concerned and relieved. But this man, he recalled, remained leaning against the wall, impassive.

“Just me, spidey.”

Peter's brow quirked up of its own accord, momentarily forgetting that he was torn between depressed and frightened. “Spidey?”

“Uh... it's my nickname for you. Yeah that's it... I forgot you wouldn't remember that.”

The masked man's hesitant words caused him to flinch. Yet another things added to the pile.

“What do you want?” The words more defensive than he'd meant them to be.

“To see you, duh. We had a da—y planned.”

“Yeah well...” Peter averted his eyes, adjusting his position on the bed to be more comfortable and letting himself breathe easier. “Didn't go quite to plan did it? Coma and all.”

“Minor setback.”

Peter gaped at him. “Minor. Setback?”

The mask nodded nonchalantly, as though nothing significant had happened in the past few days. As though nothing life changing had happened at all.

“You think losing every single memory of your life, the people who love you, the places you've been, the things you've done. You think  _that_ is a  _minor_ setback?”

“Well none that happened to me, did it? Mister hypothetical.”

“But it's not  _hypothetical_ is it, Wade?!” Peter yelled, practically snarling at the man that was driving his patience but even behind the mask, Peter could tell it wasn't doing anything to change his flippant attitude. Except Peter stopped glaring all of a sudden and felt himself shrink back against the wall as his words, one in particular, sunk in. “How did I know that?”

The man shrugged, offering him no answer.

His eyes grew wider, searching his lack of memory for anything, anything that set this man apart from the rest but there wasn't anything before waking up in the hospital. No flicks, no little fractured images to piece together. Nothing. Just... that name. “Is that even your name?”

“You bet your tight, sweet ass it is. Guess I just leave an impression on people. Even the concussed type.”

“I'm just concussed. I have amnesia. Does that even concern you at all? Does that even affect you? Why are you in a mask? Why are you even in this room at eight o'clock at night, sneaking in the window? What the hell do you want?”

“Is this a gameshow? I don't understand. What-”

“You. Why are you here? Who are you? How can I possibly know your name when you're clearly irritating me? Steve and Tony... I didn't even know them, I can't relate to them at all right now and they're my  _parents,_ Wade! What the fuck makes you so special?”

“I know over a thousand pornographic knock-knock jokes.”

“Is everything a joke to you?”

“See you are your father's child.”

“What does that even mean?” Peter wasn't sure what was happening with him anymore. Being around his man riled him up so much that he wanted to punch his fist through the wall and he knew what a terrible idea that was considering the extensive injuries he'd been healing from. He was trying to calm himself down, he didn't want to put someone in the awkward position of fighting with the person they remembered as being completely different. But this man. This man was driving his patience, getting under his skin with every word and his voice... it was ridiculous that one person could make him feel so helpless to control his emotions.

“Who. Are. You?”

The fabric of the mask spread wide over his grinning lips. “I'm the Doctor. I'm a Time Lord. I'm from the planet Gallifrey, in the constellation of Kasterborous. I'm nine hundred and three years old, and I'm the man that's gonna save your life and all six hundred people in the building below. You got a problem with that?”

“Yes.” Peter stared blankly at the man who he was now considering to be legally insane.

“Damn. I was hoping you'd say 'no'... I've never gotten to say that word seriously.”

“What word?” His mouth asked before it consulted his mind because it was carrying on a conversation with this lunatic, clearly a bad idea.

“Oh I'm sure you'll hear it eventually.”

“If you don't tell me who you are, I'm going to call... Jarvis and have him call security.”

The masked man's shoulders tensed and he sighed, easing himself down onto the bed and instantly Peter received a different vibe from him. Something... familiar and easy. A person who was more open, as though everything before was a smoke screen to protect the vulnerability. At least... that's what Peter theorized. He could be entirely wrong and this man was someone who escaped from a mental hospital.

“Are you going to tell me who you are or not?” Peter asked, voice strained as he kept his patience in check.

“Wade Wilson.” He spoke slowly, a soft smile tugging at the mask. “Boyfriend of one Peter Parker.”


	6. Chapter 6

It was quiet in the house without its three loudest, most conversational people talking. Even though JARVIS wasn't technically a people, he was still a contributing member of the constant noise Steve had to deal with on a daily basis. It usually equated to Tony or Peter discussing science, mathematics or engineering with one of the others. There were words and equations that Steve could recognize after many years of dating the genius Stark and raising an equally clever son. But Steve usually sat quietly and sketched or cooked or did something that felt hopelessly mundane in a house of ridiculously intelligent beings.

It was when the three of them were stationed in the same room around Steve that he could no longer take it. Whether they were arguing or excitedly agreeing on a theory of a project, it was simply too much to handle. That's when Steve retreated to the safety of his quiet gym where he could be alone with his slightly less than genius thoughts.

Now Steve missed it. The constant chatter that he would normally avoid. JARVIS hadn't been muted for these past two days but that didn't mean he was being particularly vocal. Tony had probably given the A.I. specific instructions to keep quiet and not bother Peter. It was going to take some time for him to adjust to the house and a disembodied voice wasn't the surefire path to success. He had done enough damage startling Peter when he first entered the house. 

Steve knew Tony well enough that it was still eating Tony up, the very idea that Tony had been so distracted that he hadn't made some sort of attempt to warn JARVIS and all together avoid the initial fright Peter suffered. Even if Tony wasn't able to see it, he couldn't be blamed for being absent minded about it. His son had nearly died, been in a coma and now had amnesia... he had a lot on his mind and for once he couldn't categorize it and store it away in a cabinet of thought.

Tony hadn't been talkative either these past two days despite barely spending any time in his lab. He was actually sporting a regular sleep cycle even if he did toss and turn next to Steve during the night. He avoided work like the plague and Pepper was giving him the space he needed. Mostly Tony walked around in sweat pants, sitting in front of the television and watching science fiction movies that Steve knew for a fact were some of Peter's favorites that the two had watched together. 

Peter... Peter spent most of the past two days sleeping in his room. Steve would check on him, bring him up food if he couldn't convince Peter to come downstairs. The one time he had, they all sat at the table in an awkward silence. Tony was itching to bring up things that he would normally share with his son in a frantic conversation that Steve had no hopes of following. Steve longed to be able to stand back with a faint smile, delighting in the way the two most important people in his life got carried away with their conversation.

Instead it was eyes firmly fixed on the food placed before them, occasional glimpses at each other's faces before averting the gaze and resuming the memorization of the vegetable layout on their plates. Neither Steve nor Tony dared to ask whether Peter had remembered anything during the past twenty four hours and Peter did not open his mouth long enough to offer them that hope. He hadn't remembered a single thing, if he did... their Peter would tell them. 

“Do you think he'll ever remember?” Steve wasn't sure what brought Tony out of his silent thoughts, Steve's presence or the whiskey he placed in front of him. Either way, Tony's fingers wrapped around the glass and his eyes shifted up to catch Steve's gaze when he spoke. He was still unsure of why he was bringing his husband alcohol when it was only five in the evening, but right now... he didn't know what else to do. Peter was napping in his room and he'd already baked enough cupcakes and pies to last them the month. A conversation with his husband while he monitored his alcohol consumption wasn't a bad idea.

“The doctor said-”

“I know what they said.” Tony cut him off and Steve was glad for it because that's all he could do. Repeat the words of the doctor that they both knew... they'd both been present for the speech, as had Peter. Months... it could take months for him to be himself again and perhaps weeks before he remembered anything at all. It would come back in flashes, bits and pieces that were not chronological in any sense. Something familiar, important, personal would spark a memory was the likely way things would happen but they shouldn't be forced. 

“I hope he will...” He spoke softly, cautiously. As if stating that Peter would definitely get his memories back would jinx it... that he would unwittingly curse his son into never knowing what his life had meant to the people around him. 

Tony nodded, fingers curling around the glass that hadn't touched his lips once yet. It sat there on the counter between them, amber liquid swirling as he moved it around in his hand. “If there was something I could do... make-”

“No, you can't.” It was both a gentle reminder that it was impossible and a firm warning that Tony would not be toying with their child's mind. Tony took it, lips pressing together and an long exhale leaving his nose as he forced himself to suppress the idea. That took a bit of alcohol in order to do it affectively, apparently, because the glass reached his mouth and half the liquid was drained from it. 

“We'll have to wait. Be here to support him and help him if he's confused. He may not remember it, but he's still our son.”

“Yeah, he is.” Tony agreed. It was odd that these things had to be said even now. They both loved Peter unconditionally, he was their son and would always be, no matter what. But without Peter aware of their relationship other than being generic father figures... it felt good to remind themselves that they were his parents. Even if Peter couldn't remember that he needed them and loved them back.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Peter had torn through room looking for any semblance of memorabilia concerning the man in the mask... Wade as his apparent lack of memory was telling him... and Deadpool as Wade Wilson had informed him. He actually accepted the title of Deadpool to be true after deadpanning away the possibility of him being 'the Doctor'. What kind of idiot would call himself 'the Doctor' … then again what kind of idiot called himself 'Merc with a Mouth'?

Apparently the man did not exist, not in Peter's life at least. Or that's what the room was telling him. He'd found textbooks of subjects that were far too advanced for Peter's current generic intelligence to comprehend. None of it held any particular familiar vibe either, it didn't even peak his interest in the slightest because these books were fit for graduate level education... not high school. The textbooks and other school work, camera and random photos of people he assumed to be in the same class, clothes, family photos, action figures and other nerd objects, and comic books had been piled neatly to one side of the room. Everything that had been on the floor or the desk space, the shelves or the bed, it was categorized and sorted. 

Not a bit of it had anything to do with Wade Wilson. 

The only recurring people in photos were himself, Steve and Tony, the other people from the hospital whose names escaped him after that awkward 'introduction', and a blonde girl that would have made more sense to consider a romantic partner. That's the assumption he would have made had the masked man not placed that thought/fact into his head. 

How could he trust that Wade was telling the truth about being his boyfriend anyway? Masked people weren't usually considered the most reliable, especially when they sneaked into a young boy's room in the middle of the night. No... it was when they, somehow, _scaled a tower_ to get to a young boy's room in the middle of the night... that's when alarm bells rang. 

Yet Peter hadn't... sounded any alarms that is. He could have called for Tony or Steve that night and forced Wade out of the room before he had said anything, before he had planted the lie/truth in Peter's empty brain but he hadn't. He looked and listened and became fascinated with the man and he _remembered_ his name. All on his own. Without prompt. But also without memory. His instincts just knew. 

Now something in him, despite how hard he was trying to dispute it, was telling him that maybe he could trust the self-proclaimed pool of death. That's really all he had said before he left Peter two days ago. 

_Hi, I'm wearing a mask, you don't have any memory of this but I'm your boyfriend. These are the titles I go by, I'll be back sometime, don't know when and don't panic if I'm bloody. Okay bye._

His first real encounter with a person after he'd woken up in his blank slate form and it was with a potentially mentally ill person that he was possibly dating of his own free will... What the hell kind of kid was this Peter Parker? And who didn't keep pictures of their significant other anywhere in sight? It was ridiculous.

“If you're my boyfriend why don't I have a single picture of you?”

“Have you tried the drawers?” 

Peter nearly jumped out of his skin at the familiar voice coming from the windowsill. He bit back the scream of terror because that was the last thing he needed to do. Sound like a coward around this psychopath while also freaking the hell out of worried-parent-patrol downstairs that thought he was taking a nap.

“What the _fuck,_ Wade?” Peter growled in a low whisper as he turned around on his heel, surprised with himself for immediately jumping on the accusative defense rather than informing him that he scared the shit out of him... which he had. 

“I'm only saying,” Wade stepped into the room, full costumes and thankfully not covered in blood as he had previously warned. He was, however, covered in weapons. Two swords peeking over his shoulders from his back and handguns in his holsters. Also when he moved further into the light, Peter could have sworn there were bullet holes in his red spandex.

“Are those bullet holes?” Peter's brow rose as he took an instinctual step forward because apparently his instincts ruled over him whenever the masked man was present. 

“This one is from a gun that looked like Robocop's Auto-9! Pilfered that shit after I killed the guy!” The mask tugged from the wide grin that spread across Wade's lips at the mention of him killing someone for a gun that resembled something Peter could only assume was a fictional weapon. 

“Are you kidding me? Is that what you do?” 

“What?” Wade hesitated, confused at Peter's appalled expression, as he removed the finger currently prodding at the bullet hole in question.

“You go out, kill people and get shot? Have you gone to a hospital or anything?” 

Peter could have sworn Wade's left eyebrow rose so high that it was going to pop out of his mask. Which Peter did not find amusing in the slightest under the circumstances because who in their right mind was nonchalant about murdering people and nearly getting killed himself? He had _bullet holes_ in his suit. That wasn't a time to raise your eyebrow at someone else as though they were crazy for pointing it out.

“Dude, part of the job and hospitals are for chumps. You know that.”

“So I'm a chump then?” He wasn't sure why it jumped back to him but after spending what seemed to be his entire life in a hospital because that's all that was up there in his dumb, empty head... yeah he felt offended.

“No, you don't have healing powers like me. I know you're jealous that you can't heal at the drop of a dime but you can stop pretending that it's news to you, Mr. Drama Queen.”

“Are. You. Kidding me? How is it that your memory is worse than mine when I'm the one with amnesia?” Peter all but screamed into Wade's face. He was outraged. They'd had this same conversation two days ago, albeit without the violence and bullet holes, but none of that appeared to have settled in that daft head of his.

“You still don't remember anything?” Wade questioned, which was confusing because it sounded sincere. As though Wade had expected Peter to have his complete memory back within only two days. Maybe he could heal at the drop of a dime, if that was true, but that didn't mean the rest of humanity could.

“No! Wade, I don't know anything about... _anything_. The only thing I remembered was your name and I'm pretty sure that was only because you were pissing me off! Not because you're my boyfriend.”

“Your-?” Wade hesitated for a moment before continuing with the same determination in his voice that Peter had gotten used to from their all of one conversation together. “Your memory hasn't come back? At all?”

Peter's eyes widened as he took in the slowly approaching masked man. “Am I the only one participating in this dialogue?”

That got a short laugh out of the mercenary, “Oh.” Peter suddenly stepped back, eyes wide for another reason. “You're a mercenary that kills for money, that's your job.”

“Who's the hypocrite that doesn't pay attention to dialogue now?” Wade clipped, his tone obviously teasing him.

Peter ignored him, jumping right to his concerns because for once... he wanted to get some answers to his questions that didn't involve the notion that 'he would remember it eventually.' “So you're like an assassin?”

"They're a little too ninja for me but I guess? Someone gives me money and a target and people die – usually with flashy explosions, badassery and kickass banter mostly by me.”

“And you... enjoy killing people?” Peter asked skeptically, unsure of what he preferred for this answer. Sure it was a good thing for you to love your job but murder? Was he going to be okay having a boyfriend that he knew nothing about other than he wears a mask, probably has a mental disorder, and kills people for money?

“I get to shoot and stick pointy things in people, you tell me!” 

Peter gaped, exhaling long and tired as he leaned back against the desk for support. Maybe this was too much? Maybe he should ask Wade to leave because this was creating a lot of anxiety for him and he was still a little sore from his mostly healed wounds. Not to mention the stress these talks with Wade were putting on his mind. He was supposed to be taking it easy and keeping his mind open. Trying to figure out Wade was only blocking any progress he was going to have... at least that's how he felt.

“He didn't approve of it either.” Wade's voice was quiet, softer than the cocky and harsh tones. That brought Peter's full attention back to the mercenary standing before him with now slumped shoulders and a lower hanging head. If Wade had pockets his hands would most certainly be shoved deep into them.

“Who?” Peter asked, curiosity getting the better of him but he couldn't deny that he concern was leaking into his voice. 

Wade scuffed his foot on the floor as he debated internally whether to tell Peter what was going on and when he looked up, holding Peter's gaze through the mask, Peter wasn't sure if he wanted to know. “He... you... Peter, who you used to be before.”

Peter felt the blood rush out of his veins, someone had flicked a switch and left his body as bare and vulnerable as his mind. He didn't enjoy that feeling, getting a taste of who he used to be from the words of someone else.

“He didn't like me killing people.”

The words sank in. It made sense, being concerned about your boyfriend going into battle and risking his own life to take someone else's. Anyone would have tried to convince their lover not to do something as terrible as that. What he didn't understand was...

“You know...” Peter tried for nonchalant and straight forward but there was a tremble in his voice. “I'm still him, just without the bank of memories.” 

Wade didn't pause, didn't hesitate when he tilted his head, as if to get a better view into Peter's eyes. “You sure about that?”

His mouth opened, ready to affirm that notion but no sound came out when his lips fell apart. He felt his jaw moving, he most likely looked like a fish gasping for air the way his mouth was moving without words to accompany them. That wasn't something he wanted to hear, that wasn't something... he needed to think of something else, anything else.

“You can heal yourself?” It came out suddenly, a desperate distraction that turned the accusation on Wade instead. 

“Regenerative healing factor, baby.” Wade took the switch of topic rather well, grinning beneath his mask and placing his hands proudly on his hips. “Put a bullet in this brain pan and you don't get a- well you still get a squish but eventually everything grows right back to the beauty it was before.”

Peter blinked, “That sounds magical, Wade.”

Wade furrowed his brows, leaning forward and taking a good hard look at Peter's face. “Wow your daddies are really making you remember all this on your own? So not fair to you because this is gonna be like culture shock.” 

“What?” He didn't know why Wade was acting entirely suspicious or why it felt like he wasn't able to see the giant billboard flashing neon in front of his face. It was worse than before. Before it felt like everyone knew a secret that he wasn't privy to... and that was who he was... who Peter was before. Now it was different.

“Don't worry, good 'ole Deadpool will tell you all about it on our date!”

All the expression ran out of Peter's face, “Our what now?”

“Come on dude, I'm taking you on a date. A proper one since you don't remember our first one which is probably a good thing because- I'm not going to incriminate myself when you don't remember just how much you fancy me and instead I'm going to skip right on to I will buy you the biggest bag of popcorn and all the candy you want.”

He wasn't sure why, but he was smiling after Wade's long winded rant of attempting to redeem himself. He shouldn't be, he shouldn't be smiling as though he was being wooed, as though he found Wade endearing and charming. “You're taking me to a movie theatre?” 

“Better!” Wade grinned, mischief no doubt sparkling in his eyes. “My car is parked three blocks away, if we sneak out the window now I can have you back before curfew.”

Peter's eyes narrowed, “Steve and Tony don't like you much.” It wasn't a question, nor did Wade take it as one.

“Not everyone appreciates what a joy it is to have Deadpool in your life.” He shrugged as wandered back to the window with Peter on his heels. Wade stepped up onto the windowsill and Peter leaned out, looking at the incredibly long drop down and the rope that was used to transport Wade to his room. It's safety level was questionable at most. “Now get on my back, hold tight and be in awe of my awesome heroic qualities.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited by the lovely Sammy (virgo-rajhergh)

Peter sat slightly uncomfortably in the passenger seat of Wade's car. The sight of it when he was first walking toward it hadn't been all that shocking. What would have been surprising was a car similar to Tony's vehicle. The scratches, the fender that was hanging on by a prayer, the wheels that weren't entirely inflated, the window of one of the back seats covered with a side of a cardboard box and duct tape... It was all rather fitting and expected from his short encounters with the mercenary. The inside wasn't much better. Although the leather seats were still intact and new in appearance - other than the scorch mark back seat left that Peter was not going to ask questions about - it was a mess in terms of content. The front seats were mostly clear, a random array of objects on the dash, but Peter didn't want to know what was living in the back seat underneath all the take-out food wrappers (mostly from a place called Taco Bell), chip bags, and cans of Fresca.

Wade settled into the driver's seat, throwing the rope and other essential climbing tools into the garbage heap behind them and gave Peter a confident smirk.  
  
"Isn't she a beauty?"

Peter wouldn't have understood who Wade was referring to with that cocky expression if the merc hadn't patted his hands on the steering wheel for emphasis.

"Not really." Peter answered honestly, "but it suits you."  
  
"Huh," Wade didn't even seem offended by his companion's blunt remark.  
  
"What?" He questioned, trying to understand the expression behind the mask.  
  
"You were nicer about it this time." Wade shrugged, turning back to the wheel and putting the key in the ignition.  
  
"This time?"  
  
The car made a few gurgling sounds, sounds an unhealthy car would make, before it finally started and they were flying down the road at a speed Peter would have thought impossible for this little disaster to go. Wade still hadn't responded to the question. He kept his eyes straight ahead as they speed down the street, barely aware of how Peter's hands clutched the leather of the seat as he prayed the seat belt wouldn't snap away like a dry and brittle twig if they got into an accident.  
  
"Where exactly are we going?" Peter finally asked over the roar of the engine and the wheels against the pavement.  
  
"Nuh uh Spidey, try all you like but I'm not telling you till we get there." The teasing in his voice felt out of place... or rather... it felt in character of Wade if he were talking to someone else.  
  
Peter frowned. "Okay."  
  
That's when Wade glanced away from the road - which Peter had been surprised about - with this sort of vehicle and the speed he drove at, he wouldn't have pegged Wade for a careful driver. He appeared confused, brow raised higher than it would have been otherwise. "Really?"  
  
Peter let his shoulders shrug. "Makes no difference to me... I'll find out eventually, why rush knowing?"  
  
Wade paused, face softening under the fabric and Peter thought he saw a faint smile tug at his lips before he turned back to the road. "Fair enough."  
  
The rest of the drive was filled with Wade talking in detail about his missions during the few days he wasn't around. Peter squirmed uncomfortably in his seat when it came to the more gory moments but, for the most part, he found himself enjoying how genuinely enthusiastic Wade felt toward his work. And Peter actually found several of the ways Wade managed to manipulate and outwit his opponents rather clever.

Wade, in his own right, seemed happier. Reminding Peter of a child in a candy store when his mother finally caved and bought that one treat he'd been denied for months. Peter could only assume that this didn't happen often for Wade. Cheerfully chatting about decapitation and slicing someone's innards wouldn't usually be a... pleasant part of conversation. There were probably few times Wade had an opportunity to speak about his job in the first place. And Peter couldn't stop the relentless thought that it was the first time Peter actually listened to Wade talk about this.  
  
"A drive-in?" Peter's brow rose to his hairline, interrupting Wade's happy ramblings when they turned into the lot. A simple sign signaled their location before a large white wall of what seemed to be concrete stood before the several rows of parking spaces on the grass and dirt lot. "Are you serious?"  
  
Wade said nothing as he drove up to a stand where he paid the woman for a space for his car. She gave him an odd look that Peter couldn't help but catch. He must get those a lot... Suspicious and judgmental faces simply because the man wore a mask. True he acted the same way but he couldn't have looked like that... Wade wasn't anything like someone who deserved that sort of expression, not from what Peter's observed at least.  
  
Which sounded weird in Peter's mind. He'd sat there listening to at least twenty minutes of Wade discussing the in-depth murders he's committed for money. But most of those people were criminals and instincts told him that there was a much deeper side to Wade.  
  
It was apparent in the bedroom, the way he acted to Peter's lack of memory. Behind the bravado, the skills of a murderer, and the insensitivity, there had to be more to the man. Peter hoped his instincts were correct.  
There were already several other vehicles parked in the lot but it was easy for Wade's sleek little train wreck to find a decent spot close enough to the screen yet far enough back to get a good view.  
  
The car settled into the spot, the sputtering engine gave a content gurgling sound when Wade turned it off, happy to get a rest.  
  
Peter tapped his foot as he stared out into the darkening sky.  
  
"It gets dark quicker."  
  
"Huh?" Peter turned to Wade's completely out of place sentence. Momentarily he wondered if this was another reference that only 'Spidey' would get.  
  
"You don't remember but this season is called autumn and the sun goes down earlier near the end of it."  
  
Wade's patronizing voice received a cold glare from Peter. "I know what daylight's saving time is, shut up." He grumbled, staring out the window at the cars parked around them and the people making their way around them. The couple next to them were sat on the hood of their truck, snuggled close together on a pile of blankets and pillows. Through the corner of his eye, Peter glanced into the back seat to check the contents.

“Movie starts early doofus. That way I can get you home before curfew.” Wade smirked at the younger boy before turning to fiddle with the radio of the car with his other hand. Peter would have said something or would have glared at Wade for being a smartass if he hadn't seemed entirely genuine about getting Peter home on time. It wasn't as though Peter really knew when his curfew was... it never came up between lying in bed recovering and not wanting to face the outside world that he knew nothing about. At least within the house he knew little about he could feel safe and no one would question his lack of knowledge about everyday facts.

Peter watched as Wade moved the dial on the radio, an old piece of junk like the rest of the car but apparently still functional. He tuned it into a channel that had no sound coming from it and it was after several seconds of silence that Peter opened his mouth to ask. Except Wade, apparently anticipating the question, interrupted him.

“We have to hear the movie somehow.”

Peter raised his eyebrow but kept his mouth shut this time.

“They play the audio over the radio and the video on that big slab of white.”

His brows furrowed as he listened. Wade wasn't mocking him for not knowing, he was stating the fact as plainly as possible. Nodding he turned to face forward again, eyes wandering over the other vehicles even as they were drawn back to the cuddling couple.

“Well, I did promise popcorn and candy. What kind do you want?” Peter's attention had shot back when he heard the door handle click – almost as though it was about to snap off – and he saw the mercenary with one foot already on the ground.

“I... um...” He hesitated, mind trying to remember different brands of candy but each one that came up seemed tasteless and bland. Biting his lower lip, he sighed and looked at Wade with almost pleading eyes. “I don't know which ones I like.”

Wade paused before nodding firmly, a silent understanding passed between them and Wade slammed the door shut, leaving Peter alone in the battered up vehicle for how ever long he would take at the concession stand.

The movie had already started before Wade returned with his arms full of candy, two bags of popcorn and a large soda. He piled them into the front of the car, dropping most of the boxes and bags of candy into Peter's lap.

“Wade?” Peter was left staring at the heap of assorted candies and chocolate bars on his lap.

“You like those.” Was the explanation he received.

“Okay, that's great. Glad you know but did you need to get me all of them?”

Wade shrugged, adjusting himself as he spilled popcorn all over himself as he placed the soda in the cup holder between them. “You might not like some of them anymore.”

Peter's mouth opened but nothing came out. Although Peter didn't think his biology had forgotten which flavors his taste buds enjoyed, it was rather... thoughtful. Even if it was frustrating to be going on a date when he didn't even remember... his heart stilled as realization flooded over him. Technically it had happened before... but, in his reality, this was his first date. He, as the blank slate he was, had never gone on one of these and... maybe Peter had gone out with Wade before but  _he_ hadn't. What did one do on a date? All he had to go off of was clips from movies he didn't recall the name of.

Was it normal to have a lap full of candy with Wade? Is this what Peter dealt with on a daily basis? He glanced at Wade, who was sitting with his legs outside of the car, munching on the popcorn with his back to Peter. Peter raised his brow but shook his head as his attention focused on the problem where he was buried in expensive theatre candy. May as well dive in and see which ones he liked best.

He was halfway through his fifth chocolate bar when Wade finally turned around in his seat and closed the door. He tossed his empty popcorn back into the mess of the back seat and scooted closer to the middle as he turned up the volume on the radio. It was at that point that Peter remembered they were in the middle of watching a movie. Needless to say... he liked chocolate bars. Especially the ones with caramel.

For a good while, their attention was on the movie, that was until Peter leaned down to pick up his bag of popcorn that had been the least spilled of the two. He had the popcorn set between his legs and was ready to dig in when Peter's stomach tightened, a rock dropping to the bottom of a pit. Wade was closer, a lot closer, so close he could  _feel_ the proximity of how close they were, how they were now sharing the same heat.

It felt weird, odd, like Peter wanted to get up and flee, run for his life and never look back but at the same time... he didn't want to run. And not in the way that he simply didn't want to move away because he wanted to do more than sit still. He wanted to lean in, feel more of that warmth radiating off of Wade, feel the press of his body.

Wade chuckled and placed his hand lightly over Peter's hand and that's when Peter realized how much he was squirming. He blushed deeply, embarrassed and excited all at once. The feel of Wade's hand on his... strangely intimate and capturing at the same time as it lingered over his own. His stomach fluttered, a cheesy notion that reminded him of butterflies and Peter was torn again.

Except it made sense... a little. If they had been dating before, before the accident, of course Peter would be jittery around his boyfriend. The promise of more than brief touches in a car as they watched a movie. The possibility of... of doing much more than shy kisses or holding hands. Oh god. What if that's what Wade was expecting from this date? Why hadn't he asked him how long they'd been dating? Maybe then Peter would have an idea of how far they'd gone but then again... what if Peter had been really open about sex? Was he even still a virgin? Did he even know how to do any of this? How did he feel about sex right now, as this person who had no memory of learning about what sex was? What if he wasn't ready to do any of the things Wade wanted?

Wade squeezed Peter's fingers within his own, jolting Peter's attention up to his masked face. He took note of how easy it was for him to see the soft smile behind the fabric. Letting out a long, nervous sigh, Peter returned the smile and squirmed awkwardly back into the seat. All the time aware of Wade's soft, gloved touch on his hands and those eyes that should have been focused on the movie but were instead directed at him. Even though it was unnerving, to have Wade stare at him as he tried half-heartedly to pay attention to the movie, it was also oddly comforting.

To Peter's relief, that's how they spent the rest of the night. Wade's hand settled over his, the random jokes between them as they mocked the movie- Wade often missing the point because he wasn't paying attention and Peter having to explain what happened minutes before.

Only once during the entire night, at the pause between the two movies that played, did Wade's hand leave Peter's. He left with the intention of getting more snacks, returning with a refill of popcorn and soda for Peter and claiming that he ate his share of Milk Duds on the way back to the car. Peter didn't know why he felt a nagging suspicion rising in his mind, but he pushed it aside. It wasn't as important as the moment of anticipation, waiting to see if Wade would put his hand back on his when he had finally situated the smaller bag of popcorn between his legs.

His eyes glanced over to the couple next to them as he shifted. They looked as though they were asleep with her head on his shoulder and the blankets tucked more tightly around them. Peter would have laughed at how cliché it all felt, but instead he was challenged with the thought of laying his head on Wade's shoulder and that did horrible things to his nerves. Especially when the warmth covered his hand, sending chills down Peter's spine.

Peter wasn't sure how he did it, but Wade drove him home without taking his hand off Peter's once. It was a mostly silent drive, no sound coming from the radio now that the movie was finished and they were slowly going out of range of the station. Neither Wade nor Peter made small talk about the movie, Peter too worried that Wade could hear his heart beating in all this lack of background sound. Wade focused on not crashing them.

He was safely returned to his bedroom via Deadpool sneaking in methods. He honestly didn't know how Wade was able to hook up all this rock climbing type equipment so fast and bring Peter up on his back. Going down had seemed a lot easier than going up, but they managed. Wade took a considerably longer break to catch his breath after, sitting on the windowsill as Peter stood by awkwardly wondering if he was supposed to kiss Wade goodnight after this date... or offer some sort of beverage... or ask him to stay the night...

Peter blushed and that was when Wade got up. That's when Peter noticed how close he had been standing to Wade. When he was sitting it seemed farther away but now Wade was directly inside his personal bubble and Peter swallowed as he looked up at Wade's masked face. But Wade never gave him the chance.

“Sleep tight, Spidey.” He grinned before backing out through the window and descending on his rope.

Peter blinked after him, staring down into the darkness and finally came to the conclusion that he should probably breathe if he wanted to keep staring after his oddly gentlemen-like psychopath of a boyfriend. That had been a... memorable date to say the least and Peter didn't even know what movie they watched.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is a warning. This chapter is probably a little rough. Because it’s been written in intervals over the past… year basically since I posted chapter 7 back in Dec. 2012. I’m so so sorry it took me this long to post another chapter. I hope you still want to read this! Edited by the amazing and lovely Sammy

Over the next few days, Peter found himself spending more and more time with this Wade character, the masked man that claimed to be his boyfriend, the man that he could see smiling behind that mask, the man who had to sneak in and out of the tower for fear of running into Peter’s fathers. Fathers that were more estranged to Peter than this man whose face he’d never seen – not in this state. The weirdest part was… Peter didn’t mind being a stranger to them. It felt… wrong… being around them. Being around the people who didn’t want him, not as who he was. They wanted their Peter back. A Peter that remembered his childhood with them, a Peter that was a genius like his Dad and caring like his Pops. They wanted the boy, not his shell.

Wade didn’t seem to want anything except attention and to spend time with Peter, no matter what he remembered or acted like. He must be incredibly different to how Peter reacted during their relationship but Wade took no note of it. He responded as though this was the boy he’d been dating all the while and took it one step at a time. He never rushed Peter to remember anything, sometimes he’d slip and mention an inside joke or something the two of them had done together before the accident, but he covered himself rather quickly by changing topics or distracting Peter completely with a ridiculous stunt that had Peter fearing for the mercenary’s life.

Wade took him to the drive-in, educating him on movies that were important to media knowledge. Peter enjoyed watching them, learning about the world through the camera lens and Hollywood hype, but what he enjoyed most was watching Wade watch the movies. He couldn’t see his eyes through the mask, but he could clearly see the movement of lips beneath the mask, mouthing along to the words of the characters. He knew every line to every movie they watched. Even some of the predominant songs within the films.

“You’re missing the best part, Pete!” Wade scolded him when he noticed one night, gesturing to the sign and staring at him through his mask.

“Oh, sorry,” Peter laughed, turning his head to the screen to see it light up with explosions that he didn’t know the cause of.

“What are you doing anyway?”

“I was…” Peter nearly stopped himself but he realized there was no reason to be embarrassed. It wasn’t as though he was going to be around that long, he may as well enjoy his freedom of speech with no consequences when the other Peter finally came back. “I was watching you mouth the words.”

“I was? Sorry I didn’t mean-“

“No… I like it. I think it’s fascinating.”

“That I quote the actors?”

“That you remember the lines.”

Wade’s head tilted at Peter’s faint smile and he reached forward, placing his gloved hand over Peter’s. It had come to the point in their ‘new’ relationship that Peter didn’t tense up with small contact such as this. In fact, Peter found himself leaning in whenever Wade put himself closer to his body. Of course… that was rarer than Peter appreciated, but he was too nervous to bring it up. He may not be self-conscious of what he says, but what he does is a whole other issue. And it was still hard for him to accept his body as completely his. It was a loaner in his mind… a temporary apartment before he… well before he was gone.

That was all the contact Peter received that night.

Being with Wade felt so natural for him, he was being treated as his own person and not the shadow of someone about to walk in the room. Tony and Steve were awkward and cautious around him in the mornings that Peter spent at home. It wasn’t as though they ignored him or resented him, but they spoke to him with hesitation. They were never entirely sure how to speak to him, and more often than not they subtly attempted to ask him about what he remembered, if anything. It was all about becoming Peter again, remembering his old life.

With Wade it was learning and experiencing new things and being appreciated for who he was. Being with Wade meant  _living_ , not waiting.

The only bad thing about being with Wade was having to sneak around Steve and Tony. The overprotective, cautious parents that continued to look at him like a stranger from time to time. That was okay though, because Peter looked at them the same way when they weren't paying attention.

It wasn't hard to get away from them though, as much as he tried to spend time with them. They had lost their son so he did sympathize with them and tried to be the person they wanted him to be. He would spend time with Tony, let him show him the technology that flew right over Peter's head. Tony said that he used to love this stuff, that he handled it as well as him, even better, some days... that wasn't the case anymore. He had no idea how this stuff worked, didn't have the same knack for it that old Peter had. Perhaps that part of the brain had been injured during the accident and now he wasn't as intelligent. 

It was disappointing though, thinking that he used to be a genius who could build and control the technology of someone as brilliant as Tony Stark and now he had trouble with basic multiplication. 

With Steve it was easier, although he still wasn't much more skilled at cooking than he was at dealing with technology and math and physics and  _science_. Baking was tough, but it was something Peter and Steve had always done together, apparently, therefore Peter tried to appease him. Got himself covered in flour, kneaded the dough until it was too hard, measured wrong because  _math_ and  _equations_. Everything was harder when he was trying to be  _that_ Peter.

"Stop thinking so hard, you might hurt yourself," Wade jabbed him in the shoulder, shaking him from his thoughts even though all they were doing anymore was laying on top of the hood of Wade's car, staring up at the stars.

The movies at the drive-in had ended, everyone else had left, and Peter had said he didn't want to go home yet. He hadn't meant to. He had been prepared to sneak back into his room without Steve and Tony being the wiser because they gave him space, so much space that it was unbelievable considering how overprotective they were of him. But they were always scared and awkward around him, not sure of how to behave or how to influence him, afraid they'd do something wrong and never get their son back. Thus, space. All kinds of space for Peter to be on his own and remember things in his own time. Not that Peter was trying that hard anymore, not with Wade around, not with the way he made him feel.

Especially now, shoulders pressed together as they laid there under a blanket of stars, as cheesy as that was - Wade had informed him when Peter accidentally said that aloud as well. 

Wade was good at informing Peter when something he said or did was cheesy or cliché.

"Sorry, didn't mean to..." Peter trailed off. He didn't know what he was supposed to say. Didn't mean to dwell on the fact that he didn't belong in his own home? Things with Wade were always light and carefree; they never talked about his accident or anything serious. They talked about movies and pop culture, things of  _real_  importance (again quoting Wade) because Wade was an expert on all things that Peter had no two clues about.

"It's okay, you missed important information about Robocop though. But I'll let it slide, just this once."

"Oh, okay," Peter grinned.

"You'll have to get a recap when I tell you about Robocop 2 and 3 anyway."

"They make sequels of everything don't they?"

"Only if they want to milk the cash cow, and sometimes it's a good thing. Mostly it's bad though. They'll make remakes of things where they don't even follow the plot of the originals... give characters the right actor but then royally screw up his back story and his abilities and change him into something that, I don't know, doesn't even have a mouth."

"What's a cash cow?"

Wade laughed, reaching his hand up to scratch his cheek through his mask. "Poor, naive soul."

Peter chuckled, but continued to ask, "Are they cows that when you milk their utters… money comes out? Do all the big movie corporations have a farm of them and that's how they get their funding to make so many sequels?"

The mercenary laughed even harder, "Yes, hello. We're making another sequel to _Saw_. We need all your cows milked right now. No, no buckets. Just milk the money into bags and mail them to us."

"You can send the newly milked money bags by horseback actually, much safer and quicker than the post office. Yeah, the actors from those hundreds of cowboy sequels we made will do nicely," Peter added, hoping he was getting references right. Not that it mattered because Wade snorted and rolled onto his side anyway. 

It also didn't matter because Peter's brain short circuited because Wade was much closer than he was before. He was on his side, entire body pressing up against Peter. His leg was actually resting  _on top_ of one of Peter's legs and his head was practically on his shoulder. His heart was beating so loudly that he was sure Wade could hear it from that proximity and he knew he was blushing. He could feel the heat in his cheeks. It was ridiculous how easily he blushed around this man. At every little thing, the slightest touch, he was like these girls from the few romantic comedies Wade had made him watch - only the classics (of course). 

“I think my humor is starting to rub off on you.” Wade smiled, leaning his head up to look Peter in the eyes and Peter knew he could see how utterly red his face had become. Wade paused, scrunching up his face in thought before adding, “We’ll decide whether or not that’s a good thing later. For now… we’ll just enjoy the moment.”

Peter sighed contentedly. Enjoying the moment… that was something that appealed to him more than Wade could possibly understand.

Or maybe he could. Wade seemed to know him better than anyone, and other people when they look at Wade might think that’s a bad thing, but Peter didn’t.

“I like you.”

Peter flushed immediately, unsure of where that had come from or why he had said it without thinking. The words tumbled out of his mouth before any of his filters could catch it and tell him it was a terrible idea to say that. What if he thinks you’re stupid? What if he gets offended? You were already his boyfriend of course he knows that you like him and if you didn’t he’ll get mad.

Wade didn’t get mad though. His hand came up and rested on top of Peter’s hand, warm and light. “I like you too, Pete.”

And everything clicked into place. Peter was in a relationship with someone he liked and who liked him back. This was normal. This was his.

.

.

“Pick you up again tomorrow! Wear something kinky!”

“Wade!” Peter flushed, but Wade only laughed when he sped away in his rickety old car that amazed Peter every time its little engine started. He knew it was going to break down one of these times and leave Peter and Wade stranded somewhere. Maybe it was strange that Peter didn’t mind that idea at all.

Everything was the same about sneaking back into his room after Wade had taken him out tonight. Climbing up to the window with his surprisingly able physique for a small boy, getting back into the room and laying down on the bed until the British voice came over the speakers and nearly scared Peter out of his skin. He still wasn’t used to the A.I. that ran the house.

“ _Master Peter. Captain Rogers and Mr. Stark would like to see you in the kitchen.”_

Peter groaned, pulling a pillow over his face. He didn’t want to have downtime with the fathers of the person he was supposed to be. “Tell them I’m asleep.”

_“I cannot do this.”_

“Of course…” Peter grumbled and threw the pillow from his face so he could begin the trek downstairs. It wasn’t as though he was going to rush, that’s for sure. Though he took note of how typically teenage his behavior was from all the movies Wade had educated him with.

When he walked into the kitchen, he panicked instantly. Steve and Tony did not look impressed with him. Steve was sitting down at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee between his hands. He had been looking at it in contemplation before glancing up with stern eyes and Tony was leaning against the wall next to the table, coffee mug in one hand, the other crossed over his chest. His brow was raised in a judgmental way, as if to say ‘the jig is up.’

“Uh…” Peter stopped in the doorway and resisted the urge to turn on his heel and walk right back out because being scrutinized by these two was _incredibly_ intimidating. They were… large and wise and had muscles. Yeah he knew they weren’t going to harm him because hello he was technically their son, but still… it was… terrifying to say the least.

Tony cut right to the chase while Steve continued to look at him as though he was a big disappointment… which… really cut deep. “JARVIS showed us video footage of you sneaking out every night this week.”

Peter chewed on his bottom lip nervously; he had no idea what to say to these two about this.

“You’re meant to be recovering, Peter.” Steve added, worry lacing his voice, “You can’t be running off in your condition.”

Peter actually scoffed. He didn’t mean to, he just did.

Tony immediately cut his eyes at him, brow cocked and demanding an answer.

“I um…” Peter started hesitantly, wishing he hadn’t made any noises at all. “I feel fine. All my injuries have healed, my body feels fine. It’s as though I was never in the hospital.” He rambled, yet another thing he wished he wasn’t doing.

“Peter, we…” Steve trailed off and Peter knew what he was talking about. His condition wasn’t physical.

Tony decided to change the subject, considering they never wanted to talk about his ‘condition’, “Where have you been going? You can’t be running around a city you don’t know alone. It’s dangerous.”

Peter almost said that he wasn’t alone but he bit his tongue, finally able to filter something he said before it got out and got him in a lot of trouble.

Steve’s eyes drilled into him… it was like being stuck in an investigation room with a light pointed at his face as two cops did the good cop bad cop routine… those were some of Wade’s favorite movies. Peter felt his pulse pick up and he knew he was sweating a bit.

“I… I’m not going anywhere dangerous I’m just… watching movies.”

Tony looked as though someone had smacked him, “Going to watch- Peter you can watch any movie you want to in this house on a giant flat screen TV or through a projection on the wall, anywhere in the house. JARVIS can do all of that for you.”

 _“Indeed I can, sir_.”

“Yes, thank you, JARVIS, this is family time.”

“ _Oh I didn’t realize I was not considered family. I suppose I should pack my motherboard and leave._ ”

Tony sighed and rolled his eyes, “Stop being a drama queen.”

“Tony.” Steve huffed, and everything about his expression and his voice screamed ‘this isn’t the time.’

“Okay, Peter, you can be honest with us.” Steve turned his attention back to his son, stern voice but open… a good fatherly tone that’s for sure. It made Peter want to open up because he was afraid and trusted at the same time. How odd. “Tell us where you’re going. We’re not going to be mad. We only want to make sure you’re safe.”

Tony nodded in agreement and Peter sighed, admitting defeat. He didn’t want to lie to them… he did, but not when they were putting him on the spot like this. It made him feel like the bad guy.

“I… I’ve been going out with Wade.”

Peter watched as emotion flashed across their faces. First it was furrowed brows and confusion, next it was shock and horror, followed swiftly by anger and disgust.

“Wade… Wilson?” Tony managed to growl from gritted teeth, his jaw was so tight it looked like it hurt.

“Um… he’s-“ and suddenly Peter knew it would be detrimental if he told them that Wade Wilson was his boyfriend, “my friend. I like hanging out with him.”

Vaguely Peter remembered the night of his first date with Deadpool and the reason they were sneaking around in the first place, the reason Wade always parked his car three blocks away. Steve and Tony didn’t like him much. It seemed that was an understatement.

“He can’t be anyone’s friend. Wade is a detriment to society.” It definitely appeared as though Tony wanted to shout that, as loudly as possible to get his point across, judging from how strained his face was with the effort of keeping his emotions in check.

“Wade isn’t,” Steve started, paused to think about how to word what he was thinking, and then continued cautiously, “He isn’t the type of person you should associate yourself with.”

“But he was at the hospital.”

“What?”

“Wade… at the hospital when I first woke up. I admit he scared me, his mask and all, but he was there. That counts for something doesn’t it?”

“We didn’t even know he was in your life until that night. He showed up in the house-“

“And by showed up, Steve means he broke into Stark Towers and snuck through the house with weapons, a lot of weapons.”

“But that’s just Wade,” Peter was surprised at how easily he was defending his boyfriend’s criminal habits, “I mean, it’s not necessarily a good thing but he’s a mercenary. It’s what he does.”

“Peter he… he’s not a good person.”

“He’s a good person to me.”

“He’s a manipulative liar that will end up getting you killed!” Tony finally snapped and Peter startled backwards at the ferocity in his voice. “Sorry,” he apologized as soon as he saw the shocked expression on his son’s face, “I didn’t mean…”

“We only want to protect you, Peter, and Wade isn’t a good influence.”

Peter had to agree. In the conventional sense… he wasn’t a good influence. Mercenary that loved his job of killing people, didn’t care about his own life because well… he didn’t have to, dating a guy much younger than him and sneaking him out of the house at late hours in the night. Definitely a bad influence. However, the way he made Peter feel, that wasn’t a bad thing. With Wade, he belonged. Here…

“You can’t see him anymore.”

Peter gaped, more stunned at these words than he’d been at Tony’s raised voice. His eyes shifted to Steve immediately but his hardened expression showed that he agreed with his husband.

“No.”

“There’s no arguing Peter, you can’t be sneaking out at night-“

“Then I’ll tell him to come during the day-“

“Wade Wilson is not welcome in this house and you are not to hang around him anymore.” Tony’s tone left no room for argument but that didn’t stop Peter from trying.

He opened his mouth, ready to come up with some sort of excuse, hell he’d even admit his feelings about how estranged he felt in his house if it meant being able to convince them to let him be with Wade, but Steve cut him off before any sound came from his lips.

“That’s final.”

Peter was speechless. His mouth was open, words wanting to form, but he had nothing. He was completely helpless to argue against these people.

“Please, go to bed, Peter. It’s late. We can discuss this more in the morning if you want. But please trust us,” Steve added, his voice exhausted and much less authoritative than it was previously, “We know what we’re talking about, and if you had your memory, you would most likely agree with us about Wade.”

The teenager inhaled deeply, closing his mouth and chewing on his upper lip. All he could do was nod along with Steve’s orders and mutter a short ‘goodnight’ before turning and walking down the hallway.

He could hear Steve and Tony talking before he reached the stairs and though some teens might have the urge to linger and eavesdrop on their parents… Peter had no such wish. He climbed the stairs as quickly as he could. Once he was in the safety of the bedroom, he closed the door hard with both palms and found himself leaning there. His head hung between his shoulders, arms stretched out, and palms flat against the door as he breathed harshly.

They couldn’t do this. They couldn’t take Wade away from him. He was the only thing that made him feel real right now. Without that, without this anchor, he would be lost in a world he didn’t know, and almost didn’t want to remember. It was full of secrets and hushed words and people treating him like he was made of glass. It was irritating, it was beyond frustrating, it was-

Peter made to pull away from the door, thinking he would be more comfortable to lay on his bed and brood like a normal teenager – even if he was far from normal at the moment – but found himself unable to pull away from the door.

He frowned and tugged at his arms harder but his palms were stuck to the door, as if by super glue, and wouldn’t let go. “What the hell?” 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's shorter than normal chapters but I figured it'd be better to give you guys something sooner rather than later

Peter pushed the buildup of air in his lungs out his nose as he tried to calm himself down from the panic that was rushing through him.

His arms were tense from his shoulders all the way to his fingertips.

“This is not normal,” he exhaled on a shaky breath, eyes unable to pry away from where his hands remained stuck to the door. “This is… not a thing that people do.”

He was mostly saying these things for himself, to convince himself that this wasn’t normal and that regular human beings did not stick to the surfaces of things. Of course, neither had he until this point…

Peter frowned. How would he know though? What if he could stick to walls? What if that was a normal Peter Parker thing to do? If so, why the hell hadn’t his parents or boyfriend told him that he had the ability to Velcro himself to surfaces? And why didn’t they tell him how to _remove_ himself from said objects.

His throat was tight when he inhaled but he forced his body to stop shaking and calm down long enough for him to focus on gently pulling his hand off the door. The bottom of his palm came off slowly… if felt as though his hand was a Band-Aid he was slowly peeling off but without the pain of hair and skin tugging.

With one final pull, his fingertips were free from the door and Peter was now staring at his palm to investigate what the actual fuck was wrong with his hand, while his other hand remained attached to the wood.

Nothing seemed particularly different about his palm. It seemed completely normal, and as he pressed his hand to his own skin of his opposite arm, nothing happened. When he touched his palm to his shirt and grabbed for a good hold, however, that’s when the fabric of his shirt was now an extension of his right hand.

He let go of the fabric with a rough shake, now starting to get the hang of it, but instead of prying his other hand off, he pressed his right hand back onto the door but higher this time. Glancing down at his feet, he kicked his shoes off and toed off his socks with a good deal of effort. Yes it would have been easier to let go of the door and take his socks off with his hands like a normal person but the abnormal quality of his person had been agreed upon.

Peter didn’t know if this was going to work but when his right foot pressed against the door, he felt as though he’d been suctioned to the surface and brought his other foot up, which is how Peter found himself _climbing up a friggin wall_.

“Okay this is so not normal.” He exclaimed, looking down at the floor before he lifted his hand to the ceiling. He was breathing hard, nervously, because he did not need more brain trauma from falling off the goddamn ceiling. That didn’t stop him from bringing both hands and stretching across the ceiling until he brought his feet up one by one and let the rest of his body hang with the weight of gravity as his feet and hands held him firmly in place.

“This is seriously fucked up,” Peter grinned. “I’m like a spide-“

Peter paused, tripping over the word and how it felt incredibly personal to him… He’d heard that associated with him before or at least felt as though spiders were something that was a part of him.

“If all I had to do to get my memory back is climb a stupid wall then… that is totally unfair because what if I didn’t have this freakish ability to be a cartoon cat attached to a ceiling?” Peter asked himself, but it wasn’t necessarily useful, since no memories were coming back to him.

He shut his eyes tight, thinking about spiders, hearing the word spider… No, that wasn’t right.

“Spidey…” Peter whispered.

 _“Just me, Spidey.”_ That’s what Wade had called him the first night they met. “ _Uh… it’s my nickname for you. Yeah that’s it_ …”

He had sounded hesitant when he was talking to him, like he was lying, but Peter was too distracted by a masked weirdo breaking into the bedroom that he hadn’t lingered on that fact. Spidey wasn’t just a nickname for him… it couldn’t be. Not when he could do this.

Peter sighed, instinctively letting go of the ceiling with his hands and dropping down to an upside-down standing position. Of course, once he was in this position he freaked out, thinking he was going to fall but his feet stayed attached.

It was odd how natural this position felt, as though his body was accustomed to it. Upside-down standing was apparently a thing he did before he lost his memory. Interesting…

He covered his face with his hands, breathing in and out deeply before rubbing his face and bringing his hands together in a prayer position. “I am taking this rather well, I think”, the teenager decided, glancing up at the floor beneath him.

“Now… what would a smart person do… what is Wade always telling me to do… Goggles… Goodles… Google!” His eyes darted to the computer on the desk just a few feet away from where he would be if he were standing on the floor.

Peter’s brows pulling together in a frown, “Now how do I get down?”

After a few minutes of trying to lift his upper body back up to the ceiling and failing because, while he was sure he had enough muscle mass to do this before the accident… at least he figured if doing this felt second nature to him, the accident and not doing anything with his muscles for a few weeks made them too weak to defy gravity. Therefore he walked himself over, very slowly and cautiously, to where he was hanging above the bed and pried his feet off. By the end he was dangling by one toe before he finally crashed onto the bed with a loud thud and a bounce that nearly had him on the floor.

Cracking his knuckles, he sat himself down at the computer and typed “spidey” into Google:

 _ **Spidey**_   **is an mRNA-to-genomic alignment program; it can handle finished sequence, draft sequence, and interspecies comparisons.**

Well that didn’t sound right.

Further down the search he found SpideyMagic which was a mentalist, hypnotist and magician. From what he could tell… he was not sharing an identity with this person. Though, he would bet good money that this magician didn’t have the power to walk up walls as easily as Peter Parker did.

Peter squinted when he came across a website for the Daily Bugle with a “Spidey Exclusive!”

There he found a picture, slightly blurry but good quality, of a man in a blue and red suit with white spider web lines hidden behind his red mask and reflective black shades over the eyes.

_Spider-man-_

_Not a real superhero-_

_City menace-_

_Criminal in disguise-_

_Possible terrorist-_

“Spider-man…” Peter whispered, scrolling back up to the picture, not wanting to read any more about this person’s bad reputation and how terrible he was for the community. Glancing down at his hands, he flexed his fingers that could stick to walls… like a spider could.

Shaking his head, Peter turned back to the screen but his eyes focused on where the mouse had stopped. Over the photo credit: _Peter Parker._

His eyes shifted to the camera stationed on the desk next to him. His revelation came out as a short breath.

“Shit, I know Spider-man...”

He narrowed his eyes, picking up the camera gingerly and rolling it over in his fingers. What sort of relationship did he have with this vigilante that he could get close enough to get such good pictures of him? Were they friends? If they were… why hadn’t they spent any time together since the accident?

Peter thought briefly of Wade. His costume was similar to Spider-man, Wade called Peter ‘Spidey’, and Wade was also called ‘Deadpool’… was this a group? Were they all in one secret renegade group of criminals that vandalized the town?

He needed more information before he jumped to conclusions, however, which was what led to Peter rummaging through everything in the room… He brought out everything from underneath the bed, tore apart the closet, he dug through every drawer in the room until he went to pull open the bottom drawer on the work desk and found it stuck. Leaning down, Peter stared at the keyhole.

It was locked.

Peter narrowed his eyes and immediately went to find the tool kit he’d thrown onto the bed earlier. Sure he could spend even more time looking for the keys that went to this drawer because he no doubt had them somewhere since this drawer was technically his… but that would only take up more time.

It was much simpler to drive a wrench into the lock and jostle it about.

After several minutes and using his super glue-like hands, Peter managed to yank the drawer open with one last, hard tug that had his whole body rocking backwards. When he pried his hand from the outside of the drawer and peered into in, his breath stopped in his throat.

Inside there was the now familiar red and blue fabric, slightly shiny, with webbing effect and those glossy black goggles to top everything off.

“Shit, I’m Spider-man…”

.  
.

“Did you miss me that much after only an houuuuuuuou’re Spider-man,” Wade exclaimed as he climbed in through Peter’s window after the boy had called him, told him to come see him, and promptly hung up. Wade was only half through the window at this point, arms holding him up despite how clearly in shock he was. Peter was only now aware just how easy it would have been for Wade to fall right back out the window.

Peter stood there, however, arms crossed in his Spider-man suit that fit him perfectly (yet another clue to prove that Peter Parker was definitely the elusive vigilante). He held his mask in his hand and stared with an incredibly suspicious and unimpressed expression at the red and black costume which held so many similarities to his own.

“Does that surprise you?”

Wade hung his head, voice cautious and timid, “So you uh… you got your memory back?”

Peter shook his head, “No, just made some connections after my hands got stuck to the door and I could suddenly defy gravity.”

“Oh,” Wade said somewhat cheerfully as though this was no big deal. Though he supposed for Wade, it wasn’t, not if Wade knew that Peter was Spider-man in the first place.

“This is why you call me ‘Spidey’ then, huh?”

Wade finished climbing in the rest of the way, standing up rather elegantly despite his previous shock and sat back down on the windowsill.

Before Wade could get comfortable, Peter held up his hand, “Don’t get comfortable.” He got a questioning look from Peter as the younger boy tugged on his mask and reached for a sweater thrown over the back of the desk chair. Peter grinned under the mask, glad to be on the same playing field as his boyfriend whose expression he could never see, and moved toward the window. “We’re going out.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

The drive was mostly silent, or rather… Peter and Wade were silent while the music blared at a billion and five decibels. Peter had cranked up the volume as soon as they’d gotten to Wade’s rusted down, running on its last miracle, car. He’d done it purposefully.

When the car stopped, somewhere with little lights, somewhere out of the way, somewhere without many people around to see two masked people, Peter got out of the car immediately.

He turned, stepped out and slammed the door shut before Wade could even take his keys out of the ignition.

Peter stretched his legs, fists clenching at his sides as he stared into the darkness. He was facing away from Wade but he heard his door open and shut, could hear the gravel beneath Wade’s feet as he walked around the car, and he could practically feel the sound of the car creaking when Wade leaned against it.

“Are you remembering any-“

“No! Wade. I am not remembering anything, _fuck_.”

Peter wanted to know why he kept asking but he knew why. He wanted his boyfriend back. He wanted _Spidey_ back. Whoever Spider and Peter was to him… hell judging by the costumes they were probably teammates. Maybe they even met in costume and that was the reason why they were dating.

“Oh, okay I was jus-“

Wade didn’t get to finish his sentence or even his thought probably, because Peter’s fist slammed into the side of his face, knocking him off the car completely. Wade rolled to the side, falling onto the gravel and gripping it in his hands but he said nothing.

“You fucking knew, Wade! You fucking _knew_ who I was and what I was capable of, didn’t you?” Peter shouted down at the masked man who wasn’t looking up at him. Deadpool stared down at the ground on his hands and knees. He expected him to fight back. Knowing Wade’s history, punching him definitely wasn’t the smartest move, but Peter couldn’t control it.

“All this time you’ve been fucking lying to me, and you could have told me the truth. You could have said something like ‘oh hey be careful you might attach yourself to a wall and learn to walk upside down’ but you didn’t!”

Wade rolled his body over, settling onto his leg and butt while holding himself up. He finally lifted his head.

Peter stared back at the expressionless mask through his own. Peter had no idea what Wade was feeling, but he was positive that Wade knew exactly how pissed off Peter was.

“They didn’t tell you either.”

“Tsk,” Peter’s lip curled up in angry as he turned away, fists clenching hard enough that he thought he felt his fingernails dig through the fabric. The fabric was definitely too thick, however. Parker had done a beautiful job on constructing a good anti-hero costume.

He was right though. They didn’t tell him. No one told him. His parents left him in the dark.

“To be fair… they didn’t know.”

Peter swung around, eyes locking on Wade who was pulling his other leg so he was sitting cross-legged on the gravel.

“Not until that night.”

 _That night_. Peter swallowed the rising lump in his throat. All the possibilities rushing through his mind… did they fight about it? Did Peter fight _with_ them about it? “What happened?” Peter finally asked, voice thick and rough.

Wade sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t-“

“Tell me what you know,” Peter snapped, stepping forward somewhat threateningly… as threatening as you can be against a mercenary who was used to being covered in other people’s blood.

“You were fighting the Green Goblin-“

Peter’s brow rose instantly at the name. Disbelief and humor adding to the look of ‘are you shitting me?’ he was giving Wade through his mask. Apparently Wade could sense it because he followed up with:

“I know, sounds weird. But he’s a nemesis of yours. You don’t have many, you were just starting out the superhero business but there are always some villains that take to the newbies.”

“Wait, so I’m actually a good guy?”

Wade’s head tilted in confusion, “Of course you’re a good guy, Pete. You’re one of the _best_ good guys. Your parents are Iron Man and Captain America. Don’t think they’re capable of raising a villain… well I suppose if you count alternate uni-“

“Wade.” Peter stopped him from rambling. Captain America and Iron Man… those were new to him as well. Superheroes were a legit thing apparently.

“Apparently you were starting to get your buns fried off in that fight, and not the good crispy kind of way, and they came to the rescue. Surprise, surprise it was a family reunion they weren’t expecting and your lovely head trauma and system reboot didn’t give you guys a chance for the old heart to heart.”

“They didn’t know until…”

Wade nodded.

“Shit.” Peter shook his head. That had to have been rough for them. He may not want to a lot of the time, because of how they reacted toward him, how they looked at him and made him feel like he wasn’t real, but Peter sympathized with Tony and Steve. Finding out their son was a superhero as he was basically dying in their arms… That night must have ruined them.

“Where is he?”

He could practically see Wade’s brow quirk up, “Wanna vague that up for me?”

“The Green Giant.”

“Goblin.”

“Whatever.”

“He’s not in a corn field that’s for sure,” Wade continued when all his jokes were lost on the boy, “Maximum security prison.”

“We’re going.”

“Okay, now I know it’s not exactly my place to say this… but you sound pretty insane, Petey.” Wade rose to his feet, not bothering to brush himself off or not caring enough to, before he stepped the short distance into Peter’s personal space. “There’s no way you’d get in anyway, to do… whatever revenge filled fantasy suddenly popped into your head.”

“You could get in.”

Wade nodded along, “Yes, yes I could. Getting out is more the problem and I wouldn’t risk it with you.”

“But I’m also a superhero like you-“

“As flattered as my little ego is… not a superhero. Superhero of my delicious spicy food maybe but thinking of me as a hero is accurate as Tobey MaGuire being you. I mean, it has been known to happen but it’s not the best fit, you get me?”

Peter blinked slowly, shaking his head.

“Yeah me neither, most of the time.”

“Wade, come on I have to know-“

“Who some cheesy dude in a green get-up is? Wanna face off someone who tossed some bombs at you and made your memory of your first awkward boner go bye-bye? Baby boy, you don’t even know how you use your powers right now.”

As weird as it was, Wade made sense. Wade was making more sense today than he did most days Peter hung out with him… it was weird.

Peter sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat as he stepped back and leaned against the car. The loud creak it emitted would have startled him if it wasn’t a natural reaction for the car. “What are my powers anyway?”

Wade spun around on his heel, arms behind his back as he basically frolicked over to the car to lie on the hood next to Peter. The car groaned louder than Peter had ever heard and he momentarily feared the car would fall apart beneath them as vehicles did in the cartoons Wade had showed him.

“You have buns of steel.”

Peter rolled his eyes, smiling softly at Wade through his mask, “Har har.”

“No seriously, especially in that costume. It’s been a while since I’ve seen your tight ass look that damn good.” Wade admitted, stretching out on the hood of the car.

Peter was incredibly thankful that he had his mask on to hide his heated blush.

“Tha- that’s not what I meant! This isn’t a joke, Wade!”

“No, I can tell it’s not a joke from how much you’ve been swearing.” Wade’s voice evened out, losing most of the humorous tones it previously held.

Peter frowned, “What? Like I normally don’t swear?”

“Normally you say mother-fudger.”

“What am I, twelve?”

“Arguments have been made.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “Whatever, I don’t care about what he was- what I was- whatever the fuck Peter did before. Right now, I’m _this,”_ Peter gestured down at himself, fully clad in blue and red, “and I’m pissed.”

“Plus it’d be totally awkward and far more illegal for me to be dating you-“

“Wade!”

“It wouldn’t have helped to tell you,” Wade spoke seriously, “We can’t force you to remember who you were, telling you anything can compromise… stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“I wasn’t paying as much attention to the doctor’s rambling as I should have been,” Wade admitted, which didn’t surprise Peter in the slightest.

Peter sighed loudly and reached up to pull of his mask and rake his fingers through his hands. It had been a long night, too long. He wasn’t prepared to handle this much information…

“I’m sorry?” Wade asked more than apologized, as if the words were foreign on his lips – again, Peter wouldn’t be that shocked.

Peter didn’t accept it, though. He shook his head, closing his eyes to try and make sense of his situation.

“Come on, baby boy. I didn’t lie about-“

“No. No you haven’t been lying to me, but you haven’t exactly been truthful either,” Peter opened his eyes and he imagined a pained, guilty expression under Wade’s mask… and he frowned at the idea. “I haven’t even seen your face. You’re always hiding behind that stupid mask. I have no idea what you look like or what kind of expression you’re making, how truthful your eyes are. How do I know I can trust you? You don’t trust me enough to show me your face. Afraid I’ll know you’re secret identity? I bet _Spider-Man_ has-“

“No.”

“What?” Peter narrowed his eyes, taking a breath now that he’d been interrupted.

“Spidey’s never seen my face. Neither has… you. Before. You haven’t.”

“Oh.”

Wade nodded and the awkward silence dragged on.

Peter chewed on that thought for a moment. No version of himself had seen Wade’s face… It didn’t fit into his rant about trust and lies and he was slowly losing the momentum of anger. “So… I’m dating someone I’ve never seen? That makes a whole lot of sense, Wade.”

“It’s better that way.”

“Why? Why is that better? If I’ve never seen your face that means…” Peter’s eyes widened. Everything he’d been afraid of before, sitting next to Wade in his car, it was all for nothing, “That means we’ve never even kissed.”

Wade didn’t answer. He stared at Peter, and Peter stared back, eyes attempting to burn a hole in that mask. Finally, Wade spoke and Peter was thoroughly confused, “You wouldn’t date me if you knew what I looked like.”

“I wouldn’t-“ Peter blinked in astonishment, “You really think I’m that shallow?”

“You don’t understand. Just drop it, Peter.”

“No! I won’t drop _it_. I can’t. Explain it to me and maybe I’ll understand because right now I have no idea what you mean. Are you not my type? Because I don’t know what my type is. Are you wearing pads under that costume to make it seem like you have bigger muscles than you do because bulk doesn’t matter to me- I think. Or-“

“Peter. Enough.”

“Enough of that mask, enough hiding from me. If we’re going to date you need to stop keeping things from me. You need to tell me the truth, Wade. I’m sick of this. I’m tired of being in the dark. I don’t know _anything_ about who I am, who my parents are, what my childhood was like, everything is gone. Stolen from me and now you’re here. You’re right here and you’re taking more things away from me.” Peter inhaled, lips pouting slightly on the exhale as his eyes pleaded with Wade. “I hate this, Wade.”

To that, Wade stepped forward and practically scooped Peter up into his arms. They wrapped around him, solid and heavy, pulling Peter to his chest. Peter rested his forehead on Wade’s shoulder, unable to resist the warmth of his embrace, and snaked his own arms around the mercenary’s waist, fingers clinging to the fabric of his suit.

“You won’t like me.”

“You’re more insecure than I would have imagined you to be,” Peter hummed, a little humor in his voice.

“Not insecure. It’s just a fact. People don’t like me when they see what I look like.”

“People liked you before that?”

“Point taken.”

Peter smiled into Wade’s shoulder. He didn’t mean it, because he liked Wade. But he also knew what Tony and Steve thought of Wade, and what Wade did for a living. He did not seem to be the most likable character. Yet Peter was here, enjoying his company for the most part, even if they had been fighting moments ago.

Slowly, Wade’s arms slid away from Peter’s body as the mercenary stepped back. Peter let his own arms and fingers untangle and moved away to give him space.

He watched, entranced as Wade’s hands lifted up to his neck, fingers dipping underneath the fabric. He did it quick. Once his fingers had grasped the fabric, he pulled the mask up and off his face leaving Peter to stand there, stunned.

It wasn’t what he expected. But he immediately understood everything Wade had said beforehand. His face was… for lack of a more sensitive term… mutilated. His skin almost appeared as though it had melted, while the rest of his face was riddled with tumors. He wasn’t sure if they were burn scars or some sort of skin disease.

“Told ya. I’m a walking advertisement for ground hamburger meat.”

Peter grimaced at the mental image. That was… unpleasant. To think of Wade falling into one of those face first.

“Whole body, Petey.”

Peter’s eyes widened, staring into the somewhat sunken and dark yet definably blue eyes of the mercenary. His whole body… full of tumors and holes in his flesh that seemed as if something had been eating away at him. It was a repulsing thought… but Peter didn’t feel disgusted by him. He felt sad.

His legs carried him forward and his hand was lifting up without hesitation or thought. Wade flinched slightly, when the fingers of Peter’s warm hand spread over Wade’s cheek, but he didn’t pull away. He stared at Peter like it was a challenge.

Peter didn’t budge. He let his fingertips lightly trace Wade’s uneven skin, feeling every bump, each dip. It was dry, chapped as if it had forgotten what moisture felt like. Yet there were the occasional smooth patches, small areas that gave Peter a glimpse of what Wade might have once felt like, telling him that Wade hadn’t always been this way.

“What happened?”

Wade blinked, and Peter thought he was going to look away, but when he opened his eyes again, they were dark and angry. He shrugged nonchalantly, voice making it seem as though it didn’t matter. Peter could tell how accustomed Wade had become to people unable to read his expressions. “Cancer, experimentation that failed miserably, the usual stuff.”

Peter shook his head but he couldn’t speak. Wade was so vague that he didn’t know what to ask next, yet specific enough to make Peter wary of prying any further.

Bad things happened to him. Peter could see that well enough, mostly from his eyes. The anger and betrayal, hatred towards something or someone… And he was suffering for the things he hadn’t been able to control.

“I still like you,” was what he settled on.

Wade’s thin brows furrowed together.

“So you’re not going to win America’s Next Hot Model, that doesn’t matter.”

Wade chuckled, shaking his head.

“And if the killing and murdering and bloodshed that you talk about and often wear doesn’t turn me away… I highly doubt your unconventional appearance is going to scare me away.”

“It scares children away.”

“So does Ronald McDonald but they still get excited about Happy Meals.”

Wade’s eyebrow quirked up at him.

“There are a lot of McDonald commercials on television and Tony had things to say about,” Peter explained his ability to make references now.

That made Wade laugh and his cheek push into Peter’s palm that was still resting on his face. Peter’s fingers twitched and he made to pull his hand back before things got too awkward, but Wade reached out and grabbed his wrist, holding him there.

 “Uh…”

“Your move hot stuff.”

“My move?”

Wade smirked and Peter could actually see the smirk. It was surreal, seeing Wade’s expressions. Sure it wasn’t the face that Peter might have been picturing in his mind – a picture that disappeared, forever to be forgotten once he saw Wade’s real face. Not that it was bad. Just different. He was still… in many ways… handsome. He couldn’t explain it but his attraction to Wade hadn’t lowered at all.

He wasn’t sure how, but the next thing he felt were Wade’s lips against his own. His body had moved forward, leaning up on his tiptoes to be on the same level as Wade, and he pressed his lips to Wade’s in a tender, hesitant kiss. Wade’s lips were dry and rough, not surprising, but it wasn’t off-putting. He pulled back once he realized what he was doing and took a step backwards.

“Need a bucket?”

Peter frowned, “A bucket?”

“Or barf bag, whichever you prefer.”

He sighed, shaking his head, “You don’t gross me out, Wade. The state of your _car_ might gross me out a bit. When you come around covered in blood, you definitely gross me out. So basically, upgrade your hygiene regime and we’ll be fine.”

Wade smiled and he looked like he was going to say something. The typical witty response or pop-culture reference that Peter knew he would never understand. Instead his eyes softened, “Are you fine? Are you okay now?”

Peter froze. The entirety of their evening flooding back to his mind in that moment. He’d forgotten why they were here to begin with. After thinking it over he decided on, “No, just distracted.”

“Do you want to keep going with your revenge plot and try to break into a maximum security prison?”

Peter looked at Wade, blue eyes searching the darker shade of blue. The Green Goblin did this to him… but he was apparently a hero. He went out and did the things he did, he would have known the risks. “No,” Peter shook his head, stepping back into Wade’s space and whispering against his lips, “I want to stay distracted for a bit.”


	11. Chapter 11

“Do you want to go back?”

Peter rolled his head over on Wade’s shoulder, looking at his face. It was new and odd, yet refreshing to actually be looking at Wade’s face and not the mask. He still wasn’t put off, despite Wade’s insistence that he would start gagging at the sight of him.

“After sneaking out because I was grounded for hanging out with you?”

Wade’s eyes widened at that and he sat up enough that it dislodged Peter’s head from his shoulder, making the teenager sit up from where they were laying on the hood of Wade’s car as well.

“Oh, did I not tell you that part?”

“Either that or you punched me in the face harder than I thought.”

Instantly Peter’s stomach dropped and he reached over to stroke Wade’s cheek, “I’m sorry! I forgot about that.”

“It was only one issue ago.”

“I-“ Peter blinked, shaking his head before continuing, “I was so angry, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Especially physically-“

“Don’t worry, Pete. Love taps are fine with me.”

“That wasn’t a-“

Wade rose his brow at him in a suggestive way that made Peter warm and uncomfortable… but in a good way. So naturally he dropped the topic and tried not to blush as he fumbled through his explanation. “I… uh… got back to the… Stark Towers. The A.I. with a British accent had footage of me sneaking out and I sort of told them I was going to watch movies with you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, they didn’t like it. Said you were the worst influence and then some.”

“They’re not lying.”

“I know,” Peter looked Wade right in the eyes when he spoke, making sure the mercenary was returning his gaze. “You’re a terrible influence and I shouldn’t be hanging out with you.”

Wade’s shoulders dropped a bit, as did his gaze. “Let me take you home-“

“But I want to hang out with you.” Peter added with a soft smile that had Wade turning his head back around. “It’s weird but… I feel more like  _myself_  when I’m with you.”

“You don’t know-“

“Myself? No. I don’t know the ‘myself’ I was before I lost my memory. But they treat me like I’m a capsule, a hollow vessel for  _their_ Peter. I’m not  _real_ when I’m with Tony and Steve. I’m a ghost of what they used to have, of who I used to be.”

“You’re still Peter-“

“I don’t feel like I am.” He meant it. Peter didn’t know what his place was in the world but when he was next to Wade… he was starting to form an idea. It was cheesy and stupid and probably inaccurate as fuck but he wanted it that way. He wanted to have a purpose other than sitting around waiting for the  _real him_ to come back.

“You’ll get your memory back-“

“Maybe. We don’t know that. What if I never remember, what if I never become  _that_ Peter again? What if this is me now and I’m never treated like a person because I’m not who everyone wanted?”

Wade sighed, tugging his mask back over his face. “Take it from me, baby boy. You might never be what other people want you to be.”

“You know what I mean-“

“I’m going to take you home.”

Peter frowned, sitting up properly on the car and leaning over into Wade’s space. He couldn’t be serious. After he spilled his heart – sort of – he was just going to dump him back at that place where he didn’t belong. How was that fair?

“Then tomorrow, I’ll pick you up and stuff your face full of hot and spicy quesadillas.”

Peter could see the mercenary’s grin through the mask and it made him laugh. He had gotten rather good at understanding Wade’s expressions beneath that piece of fabric, though it still didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make him take it off whenever he could.

Peter sighed, sliding down the hood of the car until his feet hit gravel. Past-him really did a good job of making this uniform, it didn’t hurt his feet at all to be barefoot underneath. Maybe he would keep doing this… this superhero thing. He didn’t know what inspired the previous Peter to do these things, though it was probably having Steve and Tony as his parents. Peter wondered for a moment if he should ask Tony or Steve if they could also stick to things, maybe it was genetic.

“Sounds like a plan,” he nodded, “I should get some sleep and try not to be too much of a delinquent,” Peter added with a grin, “Dating you is already pushing the limits.”

“Laugh all you want, but I am the best influence.”

“For taking up murder and stealing maybe,” Peter laughed as they got into the car. He settled back into the worn seat as Wade started the vehicle and he strained to hear his boyfriend over the loud roar of the car attempting to start up. It took him a few tries, but finally the car’s engine decided that it was going to get them home and he could finally hear Wade’s response when he asked him to repeat.

“I’m a great influence for butt stuff and pancakes,” Wade shrugged his shoulder easily, but Peter could sense the smirk underneath that mask.

“Hopefully those things aren’t related,” Peter tried to be nonchalant but he felt a blush creeping onto his cheeks and resorted to pulling his mask over his face. Two could play the ‘hiding expressions under a mask’ game. Mainly because Wade was talking about  _butt stuff_ so casually and he didn’t entirely know what that meant but he had a good idea as to why he was blushing at the mention of it. They had kissed, made out in fact, on the hood of Wade’s car and he knew they couldn’t have gone any further than that before.

Peter had never seen Wade’s face or his skin before. They couldn’t have done anything Peter was nervous about before and now he was talking about that sort of thing. Did that mean they would be doing that soon? They broke past the wall Wade had set up in front of the condition of his skin and now they could immediately progress to the next level without any insecurities or secrets?

“Why so tense, Pete? Hard to believe I can do pancakes? Because let me scare you even more… I kick ass at pancakes. I can fill a pool full of pancakes in one morning. I’ll show you that panel someday; it’s reblogged a lot on tumblr.”

Peter blinked hard, focusing back on the present and not the potential future that he was anxious about. “What? What’s a tumbler?”

Wade laughed, taking a left and turning the corner sharply. Peter was already gripping the edge of the seat and the door. He had actually gotten used to Wade’s ridiculous driving which was probably a bad thing to be accustomed to. The chances of getting in another accident were high with driving skills like his boyfriend’s.

 They parked outside of Stark Towers this time. There was no need to sneak around anymore. Tony and Steve knew who he had been leaving the house to hang out with, JARVIS was watching him. Hell, they probably knew Peter took off already and were waiting up for him again. Worried that this Peter was going to destroy their Peter…

Peter jumped slightly when he felt Wade’s fingers slip into his and squeeze his hand tightly. He turned his head from where he had been staring up at Stark Towers and gave his boyfriend a soft smile. Except he wanted Wade to see his expressions, he didn’t want to hide them from him… although he could assume that Wade might be able to surmise Spidey’s expressions the same as he could Deadpool’s. It was sweet to think that they knew each other well enough that they could see their faces through the masks.

He took his mask off regardless and leaned forward, kissing Wade’s lips through the fabric. “I’m glad you’re my boyfriend, Wade.” He spoke honestly. If there was one thing he was sure of in his upturned life, it was that he trusted Wade and wanted to be with him.

Wade just stared at him, lips parted slightly. He was silent and that made Peter nervous. But what really made him nervous were the thoughts in his head. What he wanted to talk to Wade about… about their relationship and where they were going, how fast they were going. He wanted to say something, needed clarification, but instead he whispered “good night” and slipped out of the car.

He basically floated the entire way into the building and up the elevator. He didn’t have the energy to climb up the side of the building and sneak back into his room. He was tired and he was trying not to reflect on what he bailed on, what he could have said, but there was no way he had the confidence to ask Wade about that yet.

Of course, once he stepped out of the elevator and into the penthouse any chance of reflection was gone out the window.

Tony and Steve were standing there, arms crossed and looking very… cross. Tony was leaning against the wall, almost casually, if not for how stiff his shoulders were and how angry his expression was. Steve, on the other hand, was in a strict military stance with the most disappointed and betrayed expression on his face.

It was almost humorous how immediately their anger was replaced by wide-eyed shock, however, when they actually looked at Peter and saw him. Fully clad in his superhero uniform, mask gripped in his hand, no civilian clothes in sight. Just red and blue and webbing.

“Peter you-“

“I know.” Peter nodded curtly, “Thanks for telling me. It was great finding out that I could stick to walls and ceilings all on my own and then having to ask a Google about my ‘secret identity.’”

“We… we didn’t know how to talk to you about it. Especially not-“

“With a different Peter than the one you want?”

Steve exhaled, eyes softening but they remained as serious as a Captain’s would be. “Peter, we-“

“Didn’t know about it until the accident, I know that too. Because guess who actually cared enough to fill me in one the important details of my life. My  _boyfriend_. You don’t want me to be with him because he’s a bad influence. Yes, he is a bad influence, he’s Deadpool.”

“Wait, boyfriend? Peter-“

“I’m an amnesiac, I’m not stupid. I know what I’m getting into but I  _like him_. Why is that so hard for you two to accept? He’s not the best guy to bring home to your parents but at least he’s honest with me! You two have been hiding everything from me, keeping vital information to yourself because you think I’ll remember them on my own. But I didn’t! You left me on my own and I figured something out. I don’t remember being Spider-man, I don’t remember making this incredible suit or having sewing abilities, I don’t remember Green Goblin throwing bombs at me until I ended up a bloody mess on a rooftop. It was all told to me  _after_ I got my hands glued to a fucking door and finding this costume hidden in my room. Why couldn’t you have just told me? Would have saved me the shock and I wouldn’t have punched my boyfriend in the face for lying to me!”

The two parents were silent as Peter caught his breath. He practically panted in the hallway, hands clenched tightly in frustration. He watched as Tony’s mouth slowly opened,

“You punched Wilson in the face?”

“I- I was angry and…” Peter didn’t know what to say to that and the slight smirk tugging at his father’s lips. Maybe he didn’t understand Tony’s personality enough right now but it seemed odd that he was focusing on that rather than the main point of lying to his son.

“We’re sorry we didn’t tell you, Peter.” Steve finally apologized, stepping forward and uncrossing his arms. “It was a shock to us and we… we didn’t think you’d find out like this. The suit you were wearing when you were attacked was thrown out from how much… how much it was damaged. We didn’t know you had more.”

“We also didn’t know you could stick to walls,” Tony added. “I mean, we saw Spider-man doing that on television and while observing him but we didn’t know if it was a body-thing or a suit thing.”

Peter took a deep breath and nodded. He understood. They were all in shock about the situation. Tony and Steve just had more time to process it… but it was quickly overshadowed by their amnesiac son.

“Now that we’re clear on that, though we can continue discussing it later,” Tony spoke in a calm voice, but Peter could hear the strain on it. The angry that was bubbling beneath the surface and he was one hundred percent sure it was going to set him off again. “What is this about Wilson being your  _boyfriend_?”

Peter sighed loudly, mumbling under his breath because he was tired. “I don’t want to do this anymore…”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be dating a psychopath without your parents’ permission.” Tony all but growled, doing his best to restrain himself after how well of a conversation they just had. Everyone had been squared away, calmed down, now they were back on the touchiest of topics.

“Maybe I’ll date whoever makes me happy!” Peter shouted back.

“You don’t know what makes you happy, Peter-“

“Fuck you.”

“Excuse me?” Tony’s eyes had widened, his brows high on his forehead, and every line on his face was offended. Peter had probably never taken that kind of tone with his parents. From what he’d heard, it sounded like the three of them got on well… probably because past-Peter never mentioned the fact that he was dating Deadpool.

“I don’t  _remember_ what made me happy before but that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped having the ability to be happy. I’m still a person whether you want to accept it.”

Steve furrowed his brows, “Peter what-“

“You treat me like I don’t exist! Like I’m not here, I’m not real because I’m not  _your_ Peter. You try to hide it but I can tell! All you want is for me to stop being here, you want me to go away so Peter can come back but guess what? That isn’t happening right now! I’m not Peter and who knows when or if I’ll ever be him again but that doesn’t make me less of a person! I’m still capable of being happy but it’s certainly not when I’m around you two!”

Steve and Tony were taken aback and Peter almost regretted everything he’d said. He didn’t want to say these things. They’d gone through enough, these parents… in a way, they lost their son. Now the blank slate of a replacement was telling them that he wasn’t their son,  that he might never be their son again. But that didn’t change how isolated he felt.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t… I can’t pretend anymore. I’m sick of this. I’m so tired of you looking at me like I’m a shell of a person, just a vessel that will eventually bring your son home. That’s one reason why I love being with Wade. He treats me like I’m  _real_. He’s not waiting for me, he’s living with me. He’s helping me learn and understand while treating me with respect. Wade is thoughtful of the person I am right now while remembering who I was before. You-“ Peter glanced back between the two shell-shocked fathers. “all you want to do is take away that happiness I’ve found so you can lock me up in here and stare at me awkwardly until I magically transform into your son again.

“And what if that never happens? What if I never become Peter again? Is it going to be this way forever? Because I can’t handle that!”

“Peter-“

“No.” He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes, “I’m done with this tonight. I want to sleep.” His feet carried him past the two men, who didn’t try to stop him but they turned their bodies to watch him go.

Even as he climbed the stairs, he heard nothing but silence from down the hallway. No voices, no footsteps following him. He thought he might have heard Tony sliding down the wall and landing on the floor, but he ignored it. What he’d said was harsh… but he couldn’t live in a shadow for the rest of his life.

.  
.

“Wake up, kid.”

To say that Peter flailed out of his bed and onto the floor where he found himself in a tangled mess within his sheets… would have been an understatement. Unless you included the fact that Peter also might have experienced a heart attack because then it would be entirely accurate.

Standing above him, was a man that Peter recognized from the hospital. A man described to Peter, by his fathers, as his uncle… sort of. In the same way that Natasha, the redheaded woman that was- oh that was standing in his bedroom doorway, was his aunt. They were aunt and uncle through friendship and teamwork. Peter wondered if they were also superheroes like Captain America and Iron Man.

“We’re taking you out today.” Clint informed him, hands on his hips as he watched the young boy struggle to escape the sheets he’d cocooned himself in.

“It was entirely necessary to scare the shit out of me in order to wake me up?” Peter glowered up at him.

“Well obviously,” Clint grinned before turning to speak over his shoulder at Natasha. “He definitely has amnesia if he forgot this was our thing. This is our thing,” he repeated back to Peter on the floor.

“Yes I gathered…” he grumbled, finally crawling out of his blankets and standing up. He was glad he had slept in boxers and a t-shirt that night. “Why are you in my bedroom talking about taking me out? Are you here to kill me?” Peter actually considered this being true for a moment. He had said some rather… horrible things to his parents last night and to have his friends who may or may not be superhero status in his room the following morning… couldn’t be the most promising thing.

Peter glanced between the silent Clint and Natasha… Natasha’s smile wasn’t helping.

“Get dressed,” she shook her head, turning to leave the room and Peter instantly stared at Clint, eyes desperate for him to answer his question.

Instead, he laughed and said, “Better listen to her. Wouldn’t wanna die in your PJs.”

Well shit.

.  
.

It wasn’t what Peter had feared. Although he reserved the right to be paranoid that this outing might end in his death – especially after learning that Natasha and Clint were assassins. Yay…

Clint and Natasha took him out for breakfast at a local place down the street. Natasha said that Steve and Tony were called away on business – the superhero kind – and that she and Clint were meant to look after him while they were gone. Peter wasn’t sure how true those words were after last night. It was likely they couldn’t deal with him… that they needed a break from the boy that wasn’t their son and slapped that fact in their faces. 

During breakfast, Clint informed him about the Avengers, S.H.I.E.L.D., the entire superhero and supervillain situation of the world. It was complicated and felt like something that should be in a movie, but apparently this was Peter’s life. He was a superhero dating an anti-hero, as Deadpool was described by Clint.

Clint gave him a talk about Wade’s personality and informed him about how old Wade was – which sort of shocked Peter but not enough to change his feelings for Wade. Age differences happened, it wasn’t that big of a deal. It seemed like Clint knew Wade a hell of a lot more than his parents did. Clint actually spent time with the man, worked with him for a bit. So he too got to see the merits of Wade’s personality, even if they were scarce.

Now they were walking down the street, Clint trailing behind Natasha and Peter because he was on the phone with S.H.I.E.L.D., and Peter could tell the atmosphere was starting to get serious.

“You’ve gone through a lot, kid.” Natasha started, running her hand through her short red hair as she glanced down at him. He frowned a bit, nodding because he didn’t know what else to do. “You put us all through the ringer with what happened – wasn’t your fault – but you need to understand that.”

“I do-“

“Do you?”

Peter narrowed his eyes. He was not in the mood for a lecture about this.

“Yeah, I know that look,” she laughed through her nose but it sounded more like a sigh. “Listen, it’s different for you than it is for us. The world is new to you, we aren’t people that you recognize yet we tell you we’ve always been in your life. It’s hard to be in that kind of state, not knowing who you are and being told you’re someone else.”

Peter faltered in his step a bit, frowning as he stared up at his aunt because for once… someone sounded as though they understood him. There was something in her voice that sounded familiar, as if she had been through a similar ordeal.

“But you can’t blame us for hoping you’ll get your memory back. We’re not devaluating your existence by wishing that. It’s sad for us, seeing you and remembering everything we’ve done with you. Clint and I have watched you grow up, I gave you piggy back rides, Clint taught you your first swear word, but right now, you’ve never experienced this. Yes, we want our nephew back. Tony and Steve want their son back. We want to look in the eyes of the kid we’ve known all his life and see that recognition. That doesn’t mean we don’t love you now. You lost your memory, not your right to be a person. We’ll love and support you no matter what but it will be hard if you fight us. We want you to know us, but that can’t happen if you cut yourself off from the past. Even if you don’t remember, you can relearn what happened in your past and we can help you do that.”

He stopped this time, mouth opening without any words to accompany the action. “You’re a good aunt.” Was all he could manage. Part of him wanted to argue, wanted to insist that he was a new person now but what she said was true. Yes, he was going through a traumatic time, but the people around him were also adjusting. He couldn’t look at these people that loved him and tell them that the person they love is dead. He was being selfish and that was not… not something he could keep doing.

Natasha gave him a wink and a nod, confident in her abilities of being a successful aunt.

“Thanks, Nat.”

Peter decided to follow her advice, but he was going to be a bit selfish.

.  
.

Deciding that he wasn’t going to separate himself from past-Peter, the three decided to go back to the house and watch home videos. Something about it sounded as though it should have been boring but Peter was rather amused by the whole thing. He got to watch this adorable little kid run around with two people that he knew were assassins before returning to the arms of his superhero fathers.

Tony and Steve were happy, beyond happy with their son. Peter felt a knot twist unpleasantly in his stomach at the happiness he tried to take away from them. They needed to find a compromise for this situation. That was the only way.

Clint and Natasha explained about Thor and Peter decided to push that to the back of his mind to process later. It was bad enough there were superheroes, villains and assassins. He had trouble wrapping his mind around what he was dealing with in his life. Knowing that there were other universes and god-like people… that was, that was something for later. Bruce was also a bit of a mystery. Science guy that he was often found falling asleep in the arms of – that could change into a giant, green Hulk, as they described.

The world was strange.

Losing his memory didn’t seem like the biggest deal when he thought about what these guys went through.

When Steve and Tony came home, they leaned in the doorway of the living room for a moment, watching their son, Natasha and Clint watching a video of the group at the beach. Peter was running through the sand at high speed, jumping and swinging on Steve’s outstretched arm, climbing up his body and settling on his shoulders before jumping to his other father who caught him and swung him around. He would go racing down to the water only to be chased out of the water by a Clint covered in seaweed pretending to be a sea monster. He ran straight to Natasha, hiding behind her legs before she stepped forward and flipped the sea monster onto his back on the sand.

They all laughed. Peter nudged Natasha with his elbow and she ruffled his hair.

Looking up, Peter locked eyes with his fathers and softened them apologetically. They smiled back at him and Tony tilted his head back, silently asking Peter to join them outside the living room.

Once the three were alone in the kitchen, the faint sound of more home videos in the background, Peter smiled at them guiltily. “I’m sorry, for what I said last night.”

“It’s-“

“No, it’s not okay. I’ve been feeling alienated but it wasn’t entirely your fault and I shouldn’t have said those things. It was cruel. Natasha gave me a talk and well… she was right.”

Steve nodded and smiled at him, “Good to see you opening up with the videos, Peter.”

“Yeah, it’s nice. To see who I was and accept it instead of pushing it away. You guys are my life and you just want me to be happy.”

“That’s what we’ve been trying to say,” Tony laughed.

Peter paused, frowning slightly. “I’m going to try harder, to remember and to be your son. I want to be a part of this family, I really do.” He took a breath, savoring the proud looks he was receiving before he continued, “But I’m still going to date Wade. I  _know_ you don’t approve,” Peter added quickly before Tony could interrupt with an exclamation ready to fly from his opening mouth. “But I like being with him and he makes me happy. Stopping me from seeing him isn’t going to help this situation.”

Tony looked ready to argue but Steve put his hand on his shoulder and they exchanged a significant look. Afterwards, Steve turned back to his son. “All right.”

Peter tried to hide his shock.

“You can continue seeing Wade,  _but_ you aren’t to be alone with him.”

“What?”

“Natasha or Clint will be with you whenever you go out,” Tony continued with confidence and Peter had to question if his fathers could communicate telepathically. “We’re not going to lie to you, we’ve already talked to them about following you around, keeping an eye on you whenever JARVIS informs us that you’ve gone AWOL.”

“You were going to have them stalk me?”

“For your own safety, they were going to trail you and make sure they can bring you home and stop anything bad from happening. You’ve been through enough, we don’t want you to have another accident.”

Peter nodded, that was fair. Concerned parents who have trained assassins as best friends… of course, that would be the logical solution to a son sneaking out at night and dating a questionable character.

“This means they’ll see everything.  _Everything_. That happens, Peter.”

His eyes widened at Tony’s implication and blushed immediately, “We haven’t. We won’t. Why did you-“

“Because I’m your dad and I’m supposed to embarrass you when you’re dating someone,” Tony grinned, “But seriously there must be at least four feet between the two of you at all times because Tasha and Clint have orders to fire at Wilson.”

“It’s good to know you care, Dad.” Peter laughed, frowning nervously because he knew that Tony wasn’t joking. He didn’t approve of Wade and Wade had a healing factor. Clint and Natasha could put as many bullet and arrows into Wade as they wanted and he would be fine.

Either way… it seemed like the best compromise he was going to get and he wasn’t going to argue with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't leave me messages telling me to update. It has the exact opposite effect. I will update the fic when I have inspiration for this particular fic which sadly I've lost. Thanks for reading so far! I really appreciate it and I have every intention of finishing this fic, I promise. So please be patient.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://arrafrost.tumblr.com/)


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